Daisuke in Training
by The Silent Insomniac
Summary: Following a nasty run-in with delinquents, Daisuke had changed. Worried over his sullen and evasive behavior, Hikari has asked Takeru to pay his unit a visit, investigate, and check up on their friend. But with Daisuke still bitter over Takeru's relationship with Hikari, this won't go smoothly... [Post-02, Implied Takari, Hinted PataGato, Daikeru friendship, Told from Takeru's POV]
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

[1] _Daisuke in Training_, out of respect for the eyes perusing this short story, will be split into three chapters. The whole thing is presently **20,000 words** long, but the writing is approaching its conclusion, so it won't be much longer than that.

[2] The "nasty run-in" described in the summary **will not be depicted **here. I'm more concerned with the character development, so that event is unimportant.

[3] If you're a reader who just came across this story in the archives, this is set sometime in the year 2004. This is approximately a year and several months after the BelialVamdemon battle in December 2002. As observed in the _Zero Two_ epilogue and subsequent audio dramas, digimon have only recently begun emerging—"realizing", to use _Tamers_ parlance—in the Real World in droves. Humankind has thus far welcomed them all with open arms…

[4] I thank **Lord Pata** for suggesting I split this short story into three chapters. I am also grateful for him, **Arika Ito**, and **ShadowPrince61** (a dA user) for being my OOC checks. Lastly, as I say in everything I upload, **all feedback and comments are welcome, and I highly encourage constructive criticism**. Happy reading. :)

* * *

**DAISUKE IN TRAINING**

**Part I of III - Apartment # 825  
**

* * *

Two panels of solid steel parted for Takeru Takaishi. The empty hallway beyond beckoned him forward. It might have carried the undertones of a haunted corridor, of an eerie ambiance had it not been for the fluorescent cylinders casting their radiance on the hallways and the sun's photons piercing their artificial glow from the open walkway with rays of revealing light.

Takeru stepped over the divider, his eyes directed at the signs nailed to the walls. His thoughts were wandering, and it didn't help to have a slight weight encumbering the Gilligan hat on his head. "Let's see, which way's Unit 825…"

An auburn hamster, rather large for its species, peeked in from above. "It's that-a-way, Takeru!" A pair of bat-like wings flapped excitedly.

"Hm?"

His ultramarine eyes glimpsed his partner's outstretched paw, trained towards one of the open walkways. It jiggled and quivered, as though he'd been putting so much effort in it.

For a moment there, Takeru could've sworn Patamon was trying to pull him in that direction without being inconsiderate enough to take flight and drag him there the way Chibimon had been known to drag Daisuke around for his childish whims, driving everyone around him insane.

Speaking of Daisuke…

Patamon's voice chirped. "So, _why_ are we here again?"

"Did you forget already?"

He felt the hamster wilt from embarrassment. "Well… I got a little distracted with Tailmon sharing those chips with me. I wasn't, uhm… I wasn't exactly listening."

The Child of Hope let out a light chuckle. "Distracted, with Tailmon? Are you telling me you have _feelings_ for her?"

"What!" Patamon reacted at once, and if it hadn't been for his hat, his hair would've been tousled hard from his thrashing. "No, no, no, no! You got it all wrong—there's _no way_ that's true! Digimon don't go through these sorts of things, not like you humans and—

"It's okay," Takeru cooed. He reached up for the hamster and stroked him, lovingly rubbing his digimon partner until he calmed down. "It's okay, I understand." He understood Patamon had yet to sort out his stance on the Digimon of Light. Takaishi couldn't blame him though—Hikari was his significant other, and that could only mean spending a _lot_ of time with the white cat.

"Anyway, it's just that ever since our run-in with those delinquents last week, Daisuke's gone AWOL. We only see him in class, but on every other time, he's just gone. Vanished. We don't know what's going on, and…"

"And?"

"You know Hikari. Always worrying about her friends. Those two are pretty close."

He tittered. "Not as close as _you_ are."

"That has nothing to do with this."

"_Not_ _really_! Daisuke's still racked about you and Hikari getting together after Taichi's victory party last year."

"And how would you know that?"

"Chibimon told me. We hang out a lot, remember?"

Before Takeru Takaishi could even reply, a green door in front of him suddenly swung open. It snapped back, startling both the Chosen Child and the Child-level relaxing on his crown.

"You're gonna **what**!" A woman marched into view. Every step she took was heavy, burdened by a weight that mirrored the astonishment and horror apparent on her countenance. Her maroon hair, disheveled. Her purple eyes, surrounded by eye bags. "No, you can't do this. Please, Mr. Shiratori, I know I haven't been current on my rent the past two months, but—

Blinded by her own anxiety, she barely noticed the thirteen year-old standing close to her doorway. They would have collided if it wasn't for the Chosen Child's quick reflexes and Patamon's shrill voice. "Whoa, watch out!"

"Huh?" She gazed at him, blinking a couple times in confusion until it dawned on her she almost slammed into him. A complete stranger nonetheless. Takeru's nose caught the faint scent of alcohol and tobacco exuding from her body. Patamon, like an ostrich, planted his face on his human half's hat, restraining the urge to squeal in disgust and offend the human in front of them.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there," she apologized. Her purple eyes landed on Patamon's aquamarine. "Thanks for keeping an eye out."

"It's alright," replied Takeru, patting the dirt off his khaki shorts. In times like this, it was best to remain diplomatic. It certainly wouldn't do well to somehow get himself involved in someone else's problems, let alone a squabble with one of Daisuke's neighbors. "You're going through some kind of crisis; I understand."

He sidestepped past her, avoiding body contact as much as possible.

She was in the middle of thanking him for the sympathy when the man on the other line articulated something she did **not** want to hear. "Mr. Shiratori! I beg you, just give me another month. Please, think of Yoshino."

Takeru felt sad for her. Observing the woman struggle with her financial condition was like being stabbed in the heart, especially for him. He could only assume she was the mother of a little girl, trying to make ends meet just to give her a happy life.

He knocked twice on the brown door, the last one on this corridor deck, as soon as he got to it. "825" was nailed to the wooden panel itself. Clearly this was the Motomiya residence.

Takeru snuck a peek at the woman outside, hoping to see a smile grace her face. Instead, he was greeted with a downcast expression, a melancholy that reverberated from her very being, even as she walked back into her unit without so much as glancing at the teenager she almost collided with. "Oh this is the worst," he could almost hear her mumbling.

Ten seconds passed.

Takeru knocked again. Someone _had_ to be home. It's a Saturday, for crying out loud. Why wasn't anyone—

A female voice hollered from within. "Coming!"

"Hold on, **I'll** open it," a male quickly retorted.

"But you're a guest! Stay right—

"What did you just call me?" Laughter. "_Jesus Christ_, I'm from Unit 821. Just four doors down! I don't really think that qualifies me"—the door opened, revealing an older man in a polo, probably in his mid-20's.—"to be your guest." He stared at the teenager. "Oh, uhm…"

Takeru didn't know he was staring at _Patamon_ instead, who was right at eye level.

"Hi!" the Chosen Child spoke, the tone in his voice gauche. He certainly didn't recognize this person, and if he overheard the conversation right, this man wasn't Daisuke's father. Breaking the ice became a little bit daunting. "Uhhhhh… I was just wondering if…"

"So? Who is it?" The other voice spoke. Judging from the youthfulness of its cadence, Takeru guessed it was Jun.

"Well, it's some kid—

"A kid?"

"Yeah, and he's got this batpig on top of his head."

Patamon did **not** take this kindly. "I am **NOT** a batpig!" He jumped from Takeru's head and, flapping his strong ear-wings, hovered towards the man. "Take it back."

"Oh my God!" He shrunk back, clinging to the wall with his legs shaking like jelly. He looked like he was _afraid_ of Patamon. "I forgot some of these damn things look like pets!"

"I said, take it back!" fumed Patamon. The grown man whimpered, unable to even look at him. "And I'm **nobody's** pet either!"

Takeru cocked an eyebrow. Odd, he thought. This was the first time someone acted this scared towards his partner. It didn't make sense. Patamon had a gentle and respectful character, and was always careful towards other humans, even now when digimon populated the world, blessing the world with their presence. Someone like him shouldn't even be engendering _fear_, especially on a **fully grown adult**.

Jun Motomiya strolled into the hall. She was frowning. "Himura, just what's going on over there?" Takeru honestly couldn't tell what thoughts were rustling in her head, taking in the sight of a well-bodied man cowering in front of an orange flying hamster.

Luckily, Daisuke's older sister recognized him immediately. Probably from the fact she knew he was Yamato's younger brother. "Ah, I know you! Here to see Daisuke, right?"

He nodded. "Takeru, was it?" Another nod.

She waved. "C'mon in," she invited, grinning at the visitor. Then she gazed at the man and frowned once more. "Himura, get back in there." Jun thrust her finger to the living room. "Buddha, **this** is why I keep telling you to stop acting like you _live_ here. I know you're close with my dad, but this is just—

"Can you puh-leaseget this goddamn batpig away before it bites me?"

Patamon insisted, "Stop calling me a batpig!" Though gentle and respectful, those traits did not mean he was incapable of asserting himself.

Jun rolled her eyes. Hands on her hips, "Don't worry. He won't _really _do anything to you. Just like Chibimon."

"Then why does it keep STARING at me with those unholy—

Takeru Takaishi had heard stories from his seniors among the Chosen Children. Stories about people who were skeptical of the benevolence they brought to the world. They distrusted them, and were naturally frightened of their destructive abilities.

Naturally, such people tended to lack digimon partners of their own.

He couldn't believe it for a second when the stories were passed down to him, yet it was only now that such memories were resurfacing.

He pitied the man.

"Mister," Takeru articulated, in hopes of ending this squabble. "You probably didn't mean to, but you just insulted my best friend. Please, take it back and apologize to him."

It was unbelievable. This **wasn't** a big deal. Shelving the questions of shape and form, digimon were no different from human beings. They had emotions, and they were a people in their own right. Mr. Himura should be consoled by the fact most derogations directed to other members of his species would've resulted in something worse—far worse—than angry glares.

Such thoughts educed Takeru's aching biceps. Fighting off those delinquents had taken a harder toll on his body than he thought.

Still, they failed to distract him from the amusing scene unfolding before his indigo pools. Mr. Himura was retreating in vain from an orange hamster, keeping himself in the air with those wings of his. His digital half was about as big as a Mokona doll. Or perhaps, one of those _Pok__émon_ plushies anyone could win at an arcade. The adult was several times Patamon's size! Even Veemon would be no taller than his shins, assuming Daisuke's claims of his growth spurts were merely gross exaggerations.

One multiplier to this already hilarious scene was the simple fact Takeru _knew_ Patamon bore no ill will towards Mr. Himura. He wouldn't blow an _Air Shot_ for something like this, no matter how much it irritated him. The Chosen Child's confidence oozed from their platonic relationship. They were best friends.

Or brothers, one might say, born by the glory of combat.

Patamon was a cute creature. One that attracted attention and squeals of pure, utter joy from girls around Takeru's age, who'd frighten the Digimon of Hope into Mr. Himura's position by multiple though fruitless attempts to cuddle with him.

"Okay," the grown man caved. "I'm sorry for calling you a batpig. I didn't know what else to call you. God, I'm so sorry. Please don't bite me!"

Patamon pouted. "I go by _adorable hamster_, you know."

"Okay, adorable hamster!" Mr. Himura reiterated. "Gotcha. I'll keep that in mind."

Without warning a smile replaced his pout, which astounded the adult so much his jaw dropped to the floor. "Great! Glad we understand each other."

Mr. Himura's expression was **priceless**. As much as he knew he _shouldn't_ be laughing like this, especially not at a _complete stranger's expense_, Takeru couldn't resist bursting into giggles.

Neither could Jun, who fell to the floor laughing.

"This **ISN'T **funny!"

"Yes it is!" Jun smirked. Then she blinked, like a bulb of light went on somewhere inside her head. She gyrated towards Takeru, who inched back from anticipation. Daisuke had always warned people about her peculiar… idiosyncrasies.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce you!" The elder Motomiya snatched the adult by the sleeve of his polo and pulled him towards her. "This is Wakana Himura." It was so nonchalant Takeru figured he must've been **very** close to the family. Only later would he realize Daisuke's sister did not address him with honorifics. "He does business with dad a lot, so he, well, he's kinda become a family friend thanks to that!"

"Aahhhhhh," acknowledged Takeru. "For about how long?"

"Since I was a _brat_!" Jun proclaimed, proud.

Wakana shrugged her grip away and—sidestepping Patamon the way Takeru did with that woman—approached Takeru. "I own a hedge fund, and venture capitalism is just one of the things I do." He smiled warmly. "Mr. Motomiya happened to have a very good idea when he came to my firm for funding."

All those words were lost to Takeru. Who could blame him? He was still a teenager, and chances were high he did not understand a word that came out of Wakana's mouth. Worse, the Chosen Child was self-aware. "Errrrrrr, right." He shook hands. "Takeru Takaishi. Pleased to meet you."

It was at this point Patamon posed a query. "Uhm, Mr. Himura?"

Wakana gaped, a little tousled from Takeru's digital half hovering inches from his face. "Ye-yes?" he gulped. "W, what is it?"

"Why did you think I'll bite? I don't do that."

Thank Buddha Patamon didn't really attack the white elephant.

"Uhm, well… how can I say this…"

The digimon smiled. "I shoot air instead!" Takeru facepalmed.

_Click._

Jun had closed the front door herself. "Chibimon loves freaking him out every time he comes here."

"Freaking me out?" Wakana countered, horrified. "That's what you call that lizard's _multiple _attempts to **EAT **my fingers?"

"For the nth time, Himura, he just nips you the way puppies do. I think it's adorable."

"Well I _don't_."

"Isn't Daisuke supposed to be a role model?" Takeru grimaced. "Obviously his partner needs to learn how to respect other people's—

Jun waved him off. "Pfft, you got it all wrong! Thing is, Chibimon singles _him_ out from all the other people visiting dad for business."

"Why?"

"Beats me. Daisuke can't figure it out either, and we only get confusing answers if we ask him."

Takeru watched Wakana gently push Patamon towards his human half, sweating profusely as he did so. He had the most intent stare directed to an open Macbook, sitting quietly on the dining table. "Okay, you leeettle _adorable_ _hamster_ you. Go back to your partner, and leave me alone so I can get back to work on some spreadsheets I'm showing Mr. Motomiya when he gets here in a few minutes…"

Judging by the way he reacted, _no wonder_ Chibimon wouldn't leave him alone. Takeru facepalmed again.

The Child of Hope would've slapped himself twice more had he been given the opportunity to ask how neither Daisuke nor Jun arrived at this simple conclusion, and _why_ Mr. Himura was working here right now if he didn't want to be disturbed.

This window was shut the instant the only girl in the room mentioned her younger brother and cemented further by the very implications of his own thoughts: was Daisuke even home to begin with?

"Jun," Takeru cleared his throat. He hoped this visit was going to be quick. The Child of Hope didn't want to dwell too long in the Motomiya household, not with the patriarch on the verge of a business meeting in the apartment. It would be imprudent of him to overstay his welcome, especially today. "About your brother, how is he? Has he been… okay, recently?"

"Hmm, what do you mean?" She cocked her head. "He's been holed up in his room all day. Comes out just to eat."

"Don't you see anything wrong with that?"

She shrugged. "Not really. Buddha knows what the _hell_ he's doing with Chibimon in there. For all I know they're playing _Devil May Cry_ on that PlayStation 2 dad got Daisuke a couple months ago."

Patamon's eyes lit up. "I forgot all about that!" The Digimon of Hope leapt out of his partner's hands and, sniffing the air, flew to a door in the hallway, his demeanor characterized by a childish giddiness Takeru rarely glimpsed since they parted five years ago. "He promised me last week he'll introduce me to some giant robot fighting game!

"CHIBIIIIMOOOON!" the hamster shrieked, hurling himself at the doorknob. "It's me, Patamon! I've come to visit!"

Takeru's Gilligan hat almost fell from his head as he rushed to his partner. "Patamon, wait! I know you hang out with him, but this **isn't** your home—

The brass knob refused to budge. "Oh, it's locked."

Takeru heaved a sigh of relief.

Barging into someone's room without knocking or otherwise some form of notification violated that person's right to privacy. It didn't matter if that person was someone who hated Takeru's guts for getting "his girl" (Daisuke) or someone who found Patamon childish enough to enjoy his company (Chibimon).

Common courtesy dictated this respect, and Takeru complied with this personal belief even if "that person" was Hikari herself.

Jun Motomiya turned up with a key in her hands. "I got it covered," she bloomed. Only now did Takeru notice her hair was getting longer, and she apparently wanted it down. He couldn't help but note it actually suited her more.

A heavy reminder of the fact they were all getting older. Slowly, but surely.

The doorknob rotated smoothly with the key in place, and thanks to Jun leading the way, Takeru found no problems convincing his conscience into breaching Daisuke and Veemon's room, their most intimate and private space where no one was to occupy sans their express permission or an extremely close relationship with either.

One thing Takeru learned from his relationship with Hikari Yagami was her annoyance at her own brother. Taichi, for all his overprotective tendencies, simply couldn't be trusted to look after himself. Like most men—like most _boys_, as the Child of Light derisively referred to, he drove their mother insane **on a regular basis** with his incessant failure to clean up after himself _and_ his digimon partner.

Agumon was a nasty addition to the household as far as hygiene and personal care were concerned (unlike Tailmon, whose demeanor and lifestyle more than compensated for her destructive claws), and as Hikari's boyfriend, there were always those times when he overheard Yuuko Yagami weeping to Susumu from the sheer stress.

"He's just like Taichi!" Takeru often heard her complain.

Susumu Yagami gave the same response every time, always alluding to the relationship they shared. "They're brothers," the Yagami patriarch quipped, his voice in that peculiar tone that begged her to reconsider any ideas involving pregnancy and a third kid.

Honestly, Takeru prayed for something neat and well-pressed. Something that looked _presentable_, not a warzone struck by what was tantamount to a nuclear bomb in housekeeping. When Jun opened the door, he was **not** surprised by the mess that greeted them.

The bed was unmade. Pillows were scattered, its sheets crumpled and unevenly spread all over. Plastic bags and food crumbs had been scattered throughout the room, unsurprisingly concentrated at the corner with the television and the glowing red light of the deactivated PlayStation 2.

Takeru could've sworn his eyes landed on what was _clearly_ pornographic material underneath the bed. Buddha, he hoped Daisuke's adolescent hormones weren't **that** much of a bad influence on Chibimon. Introducing the Digimon of Miracles to those specific aspects of human life was something Takeru thought inconceivable and, frankly, irresponsible.

Then there was the smell. A musky odor that pervaded the living space so strongly it almost made the Child of Hope choke on his own saliva. He winced from the noisome tang and remained silent, not wanting to offend Jun.

Patamon, however, landed on the bed, the expression on his muzzle lacking antipathy. "He's just like Taichi!" the hamster blurted. Verbalized those four words so smoothly Takeru half-wondered how he ever got along with Agumon, or how he withstood Taichi's private quarters and his dire need for housekeeping standards.

"Sometimes, I wonder how Chibimon could even share the bed with him," the elder Motomiya mused, eyes peering right at him. Takeru had recoiled right in front of her, and the smirk on her face confirmed it. "It's _that_ bad, isn't it? Well, thanks to your visit, I can bring it up at dinner later!"

As it turned out, Daisuke wasn't even home to begin with. "Great," the Child of Hope celebrated, his dry sarcasm loud and clear in its cadence. "I went all this way and he's not even home!"

Wakana Himura heard his outburst and sent a snide remark their way. "**Good**!" he shouted over. "Now I don't need to worry about Chibimon disturbing me!"

Takeru Takaishi rolled his eyes. If Wakana didn't want to be bothered, then the man should just _ignore_ Chibimon instead of entertaining him with those wild, exaggerated reactions of his **or** better yet, work in his own unit and do away with that possibility.

The Child of Hope opened his mouth and prepared a snappy rejoinder at the investment professional when the sound of Patamon's flapping ears invaded his ears. "Look, over there!" the hamster voiced, his body moving towards the only object of interest in this glorified pigsty.

An open laptop. Its screensaver was a slideshow, depicting multiple moments between Daisuke and Chibimon like the close brothers they were. He smirked at the sight—considering his infatuation with Hikari, this discovery pointed to some hope Daisuke would eventually relinquish his jealousy and extend the hand of friendship.

It's what Takeru would've done in his stead.

"Does this mean they're in 'that other place'?" Jun pondered.

"The Digital World?" Takeru replied. "Definitely. There's no other way he could get out of the house without you noticing, even if he _did_ resort to Chibimon evolving…"

Patamon grinned. "Besides, it's not like he's a superhuman who'd survive a seven-storey fall to the concrete!"

Jun was shaking her head. "This explains why he's disappearing into his room for the past few days now." Worry glazed her eyes. "Anything happening in there lately?"

"No," Takeru answered, happy to see relief spread on Jun's features. "We haven't had a major problem in the Digital World after Armagemon so…"

"What'll you do now?" Jun questioned. "Will you wait until he gets home?"

Takeru's answer was instantaneous. "No, I'm following him in there." It was about time the two of them had a personal heart-to-heart. His behavior to date was making Hikari worry, and that was enough to persuade the Child of Hope into opening the Gate to the Digital World—to his surprise, it led straight to Primary Village—and raising his digivice.

Before he started the transfer process, Jun Motomiya articulated her concerns, assuming the role of an older sister. It was like seeing the overprotective Taichi in female form. "I know I shouldn't be worried. Daisuke can take care of himself and he's got Chibimon with him. But…"

Patamon piped, "Don't worry, Jun! Takeru'll keep you posted and that's a promise!"

* * *

**To be continued...  
**

* * *

**Author's notes:  
**

[5] And while this short story is clearly a standalone work, for all intents and purposes **it is canon** in my post-02 deconstruction _The Interloper_. Consequently, I am exerting the same level of effort and quality of writing as if it was another update—hell, that's why this crap's so lengthy!

Anyway, this short piece supplies some background information on the main story, which _should_, I hope, facilitate some appreciation for how much the origins of its exploitative dystopia have been fleshed out. For the sake of providing context, the events of _Daisuke in Training_ take place during Hikari's "Golden Age", a little less than a year before the "Fourth of July Massacre" in America.

[6] I own the characters **Tina Fujieda** (unnamed here) and **Wakana Himura**, who play minor, if not unimportant, roles in both this short story and my decon fic. Their cameos are appropriate as the Motomiya family were their neighbors in _The Interloper_ canon, at least before they moved to another apartment complex in Odaiba in the weeks following the "Shinjuku March".

[7] Part I is approx. 3,900 words long. Part II shall be reviewed one last time before posting. Part III, on the other hand, is still undergoing writing, as I am simply stumped on writing the ending.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes:**

[1] The bulk of the short story's length is really with the final third. This one isn't so long.

[2] I'm still writing that last part, so don't expect the conclusion to be uploaded in a few days. I've been in a creative rut lately. D: Work's also been terrible, but whatever.

[3] As usual, all feedback, reactions, and constructive criticisms are welcome and encouraged. Happy reading.

* * *

**DAISUKE IN TRAINING**

**Part II of III - Primary Village  
**

* * *

Takeru's heart fluttered when he cast his ultramarine gaze on Primary Village.

Building blocks the size of skyscrapers dominated the town's skyline. They were arranged loosely by some desultory hand, almost as though a giant infant was the architect behind this peculiar design. The Child of Hope gazed at one of such tower: a bright, pink cube hanging precariously above three stories of emptiness.

How it had stayed still for all these years despite whatever the external environment hurled at the village was short of baffling. Takeru Takaishi, now that he had the time and leisure to absorb the many absurdities of the Digital World, couldn't help but gasp. "Wow…"

To think, in his innocence, the Chosen Child had never thought to stop and behold the sights in wonder.

To think six years have passed since he had last been in Primary Village.

Patamon brightened at the sight of the hills populating the landscape. As soon as the transfer process had concluded, the hamster scampered up the apex of the nearest one and leaped in the air. "CANNONBAAALLLLLL!" the digimon screeched, curling up into an auburn furball that crashed into the green surface—devoid of grass-and bounced high like the whole thing had been a trampoline.

Takeru beamed. Seeing Patamon behave no differently than Chibimon stoked the warmth of joy in him, and had he been younger…

Patamon uncurled as soon as he lost momentum. "Takeru!" The Digimon of Hope propelled himself into the air and gaped at his human half, those tiny paws of his waving in a flurry. "Takeru! C'mon, join me! Let's play!"

Had he been younger, Takeru would have surely indulged him.

Even now, as a thirteen year-old boy, the Child of Hope twitched from the pangs of his childhood—felt the temptation of dropping everything, regressing into the mindset of a seven year-old, and fooling around tug at his heart.

Had he possessed Daisuke's temperament, perhaps he would have long yielded to the pleasures of procrastination.

But Takeru had matured from these trivial delights. Focused on the big picture, the Chosen Child had no choice but to be the wet blanket. For some reason, Daisuke's signal wasn't being detected on his D3. He obviously didn't want to be found, and only a down-and-dirty, hands-on search was going to get them any progress. "Patamon, we're not here to dawdle."

The hamster flew closer. "Awww don't be like that! I really missed playing with you like before. Ever since we got back together in 2002, w-we never actually **did **anything like this and just _once_—

"That's because we're not little kids anymore," Takeru cut him off. Rather bluntly, too.

"Maybe _you_ aren't!" A recalcitrant Patamon snorted. "_I'm _six! That still makes me a kid—

"By _human_ standards, so your logic doesn't fly."

"Mmmmmmmm!" Takeru's digital half sent him an angry, frustrated glare. The cerulean eyes were glistening, and if he studied the fuming expression Patamon had on his snout, the Chosen Child probably would've seen how much he was hoping he'd act _childish_ and let loose—it wasn't like Daisuke was in deep trouble. After all, he'd been at this for a few days now.

The hamster groaned after that long, impromptu staring contest. "Okay, Mr. _Killjoy_, let's go do your thing." He plopped down on the Gilligan hat. It was a shoddy, forceful landing, and for a moment there, Takeru thought he'd plant his face on the spongy hills and end up rolling down and down 'til he collided with one of those special trees that bore toys and dolls instead of fruits.

"I'll make it up to you later, Patamon," Takeru reached for him as he walked. He intended to rub and stroke the annoyance away from his partner but such intentions were literally slapped away by one of the batwings the hamster had for ears.

"There's only _one_ way you'll ever get to do that!"

Takeru chuckled. "Hahaha!" It was never dull with him around. Some of Chibimon's rambunctious immaturity had definitely rubbed off on the hamster. "Trust me," the teenager averred. "You'll have fun later, promise."

"I better."

Fifteen seconds elapsed. "It's this place, isn't it?" Takeru asked him.

"Huh?"

"You remember, don't you? What we did here?"

"Of course I do." Patamon squeezed the fringes of his hat. "You were sad that day. Very sad…"

Takeru propounded, "Because Devimon split us up? Or because you couldn't evolve beyond the Child level?"

Another slap from Patamon's batwings. "Why're you even asking me, Takeru? **You** already know the answer!"

Takeru didn't answer him. Not immediately. It took five seconds for him to respond, but given the context of this dialogue, it might as well have been five minutes. There would've been no difference either way.

"Being here got me thinking. So many things have happened after. Vamdemon, the Dark Masters, three years living without you." Takeru sighed. "You missed a lot of things."

The digimon coughed sharply, like he was choking. But Takeru knew better. He knew what his partner was thinking right at this very moment. "Patamon, do you sometimes, do you sometimes feel like… like you need to catch up with me? Make up for that lost time?"

Patamon did not reject Takeru the second time he made his advance. He permitted his human partner to stroke him, play with his wide ears. "You've changed since I got on that trolley. I figured that out the moment I met you again after Daisuke got his D3."

"…so did you," the digimon rejoined. "I wasn't the only one who changed."

They sighed together. "Primary Village brings back a lot of good memories, doesn't it?" Takeru mused.

"Yeah! That reminds me, I wonder how Elecmon's doing—

A gruff voice shattered their serenity. It was a scream of agony, and neither Takeru nor Patamon needed more than a second to realize Daisuke made that ghastly wail. "Buddha!" The teenager broke into a sprint and readied the green device in his hands. "Hold that thought; Daisuke's in trouble!"

More screams followed suit, and not once could the two partners hear it without flinching. They came from the vast hills separating Primary Village from the nearby forests, the very hills where countless digimon were hatched from foot-tall eggs.

Ultramarine eyes took in a familiar tower. A spire of prismatic colors and hues that had a ridiculous bowtie at its pointed crown. Just a little more and he'd have Daisuke right in his sights… and his tormentor along with him.

The screams were getting worse. Patamon launched himself from Takeru's head and flew alongside him, wings beating rapidly and body tensed for a heavy fight ahead. Daisuke Motomiya's shrill voice betrayed the bold, macho attitude he's always carried with confidence, denoting the cruelty and ruthlessness of whatever this evil being subjected him to.

Takeru Takaishi prepared his digivice, gripping it tightly in his hands. With the complete lack of Control Spires here, he was certain Angemon was enough to deal with the monster. He didn't want to think what happened to the Digimon of Miracles, considering he hadn't heard him at least once throughout this ordeal.

And there it was, the corner.

A few more steps and all would be revealed.

"Patamon."

"Mm!"

"As soon as you finish, swoop in with _Heaven's Knuckle_ and distract the enemy while I rescue Daisuke and Veemon."

"Let's do this!" He flew faster, speeding past the corner.

It was a flawless strategy. The evolution would temporarily blind anything caught in its light, granting the best opportunity to strike fast and hard. "Alright!" Takeru clutched the soft, plastic corner and pivoted. Already he was sensing the power dormant inside him, stirring it to life with his very conviction. "Patamon, EVOLV—

"TAKERU, WAIT!"

Daisuke screamed again, the agonized screech threatening to break both their eardrums.

Takeru did not need to hear Patamon's protests the instant he saw why Daisuke Motomiya was shouting so much his voice was on the brink of cracking.

"Buddha, my _f*cking_ Buddha, no more… no more…"

Veemon was tapping his foot impatiently. A frown on his muzzle. His hands cradled a long stick, bright and as crimson as his eyes. "And did I tell you to stop?" he scolded, gazing up at a young man hanging from a tree by the arms. His glare was menacing. It might have even intimidated Takeru from this distance if he couldn't clearly see the weapon he held was made from foam and the image printed on the shirt Daisuke's digital half wore—a Latias, of all things.

Takeru locked eyes with his partner. A single thought traveled through their mutual gaze, as though they were telepathic (and they weren't). _Hmm… never thought Veemon liked Pokémon._

Daisuke, however, was half-naked. "But it burns. It **burrrns**!"

"Deal with it!" Veemon _snarled_ at his own partner. "Now get going before I whack you with this pool noodle!"

Daisuke dissented. "My arms are about to **fall off**, you stupid dragon!"

_Whack!_ "_Fifteen_ more pull-ups, Daisuke. GO!"

"Ugh…"

"One!"

"Argh…"

"Two!"

"Mmmnnnhh!"

"Three!"

Another scream. "GAAAHHHH!"

"Four!"

Daisuke's brown eyes dilated. Looked like they're about to pop out of their sockets. "MRRAAGGGHHH!"

"Five!"

He fell. The Child of Miracles dropped to the ground unceremoniously. He might have gotten himself injured had it not been for the soft, bouncy texture of the hills.

"You had **ten** more, you know."

"Are you _nuts_, Veemon? That's the _thirtieth_ you made me—

Veemon cut him off with the rapid whack of the noodle. "Nuh, uh, _uh_! No complaining, Daisuke. Remember, you **asked** for this!"

"I didn't ask for the ultimate workout of doom, damn it!" He wiped the sweat trickling down his face, his gaze lingering on the blue dragon. "I wanted you to teach me how to—

_Whack_!

"I _know_ what you want, but after that _dismal_ performance last week, you're **lucky** you handled that bully the way you did before he—

The Chosen Child groaned. "Don't _remind_ me. **Please**." He tendered his hand. "And hand me that bottle, will you? I'm thirsty."

Veemon snatched a large bottle of Gatorade sitting next to the tree and tossed it. "Then take your strength training like a man!" He grinned. "That's what you always tell me, don't you?"

His human half giggled as the dragon sat beside him. "Heh, obviously..."

Daisuke and Veemon were so absorbed in their moment Takeru knew it was only a matter of time before either Chosen noticed him and Patamon. At this point, the possibility they were discovered was irrelevant. Takeru already had the information he needed to mollify Hikari's worry. He had something to tell Jun when he returned from this brief excursion into the Digital World.

He got what he came for. So why should he loiter? Why should they linger? Curiosity was inexcusable, not when the two partners were sharing the same sort of intimacy Takeru and Patamon—Hikari and Tailmon—and virtually every tamer in the world had with their digital half. This was private, and it was rude to pry into their business.

What stopped the Child of Hope from walking away was not the compelling drive to learn why Daisuke wanted to train with Veemon in secret, or why he couldn't tell his closest friends about it. What stopped him, rather, was Takeru's concern for him. When Daisuke was beaten by those thugs last week, only to be rescued by his partner in a higher evolutionary form, it must have left scars deep enough to force him to seek help like this. This he couldn't understand—the Chosen Child fared well in that encounter, and his loss was but understandable considering the weapons those people had hidden on their persons.

If he left now, later on a confused Hikari Yagami might ask Daisuke about these clandestine workouts, and his further distancing from them was the worst possible scenario. Ever since Hikari chose him, Daisuke's disposition towards them had changed and at times, the guy didn't act like they were friends, treating them more like acquaintances. Like colleagues.

After everything they've been through together, jealousy was a reason too petty to warrant write-offs. Was this the same stubbornness that got them through BelialVamdemon almost two years ago? The so-called "determination" that led the Chosen Children to a landslide victory against a ghost that wouldn't die? A refusal to accept the circumstances and continue clinging to a selfish, unrealistic hope?

To discover this reason—to facilitate the renewal of their friendship, Takeru Takaishi plucked his partner from the air and hurled himself into one of the bushes close to them. A decision that came just in time: exactly one second later Veemon rose to his feet and sprinted to the bouncy hills, every pace avoiding the earthy shells left behind by the newborns.

The blue dragon would've glimpsed them had the Chosen Child been too slow.

"C'mon," Veemon urged. "It's time for round three."

Daisuke's eyes glistened, the pout on his lips a clear sign of resistance. "Awww, do we have to? Let's just—let's wait for a little while longer."

The Digimon of Miracles twitched into a stop. Growling, "_What_?"

Daisuke chugged a quarter of his drink as though Veemon's bestial snarls were music to his ears. "My muscles are still sore from all that work." He raised his arms, displaying them to his partner (and unknowingly both Chosen of Hope). Takeru squinted, zooming in on the discolorations present all over his upper body. Such effort, however, was not needed considering how large the bruises were. _How did he get— _"And look at _these_, Veemon."

"So?" the Chosen rebutted. "That doesn't surprise me a bit." He flailed his arms, beckoning his partner. "Now get up, Daisuke! Time for round three!"

"Wait a little longer," he pleaded, rubbing a most noticeable scrape on his left arm. It ran along Daisuke's elbow and humerus, and from the looks of it, Takeru conjectured it must've bled at some point. "I swear, man, you're _worse_ than my football coach."

That was a compliment, if it ever was one. Taichi Yagami had been part of the school's football team since elementary and the guy had enough horror stories about his coach to strip away the nice and pleasant exterior portrayed in public and reveal the stinking demon beneath. Takeru smirked at the thought. "Daisuke's in for a surprise next year," he mumbled to Patamon. "Mr. Mayuzumi's the high school coach, too."

Patamon smiled. "Then Taichi won't be alone anymore!" he cheeped. Takeru shook his head. The hamster might as well have said the two of them were going to suffer together—and in more ways than one. If there was something Daisuke had in common with Hikari's older brother, it would've been the fact Taichi Yagami still harbored displeasure—to put it _mildly _—over Sora's choice of Yamato Ishida for a significant other.

Misery loved company indeed, Takeru noted wryly.

Veemon's cry shook the Child of Hope from his private thoughts. His ultramarine gaze focused on the blue dragon, watching the expression on the digimon's muzzle transform from one of discontent to one of anger. "GRRRRRR!"

Daisuke tightened the cap of his Gatorade bottle. In one swift move, he hurled the beverage away and backpedaled, hands waving. "Wa-wai-wait-a-minute, buddy! I _told_ you, I'm not ready yet and—shit! Veemon, STOP!"

Veemon didn't hear a word. "Ready or not…"

"Effing shit, Veemon!" The tree obstructed him. He was cornered and he _knew _it. Daisuke's russet orbs concentrated on the Chosen rapidly approaching him. "Stop. C'mon, be a little conside—

"…**HERE I COME!**" Even from this distance Takeru's eyes caught the rippling muscles in the dragon's legs. His gaze was transfixed by the way they hardened, flexing powerfully as Veemon bent on his knees and flew in the air, forehead trained at his target.

Patamon gasped. His voice trailed, "That is…"

Veemon had just targeted _his own partner_.

Daisuke's instinct was to zone left. "Buddha!" It was a narrow evasion. Veemon's headbutt was so strong a loud _thud _sounded at the instant he collided with the tree trunk. Takeru shivered from the damage it weathered: much of the bark was gone, and at the point of impact was an imprint shaped like the dragon's own head. This would've been funny had the ambiance been more jovial.

Daisuke pushed off the trunk, widening the distance between him and his own partner to four meters. "What the hell," he murmured, gaping at the damage. "That's just _too strong_! You could've broken my ribs—

"Just fight, Daisuke!" Veemon yelled at the top of his voice. He resumed his attack, the level of aggression no different from that shown to the worst of his enemies. The Digimon of Miracles closed the gap effortlessly and threw several punches at his human half.

Every strike was aimed for a weak point. A vital organ. Granted a front row seat by the circumstances, Takeru's eyes were dilating over the sheer ferocity of his attacks. Each one, sent careening towards Daisuke's chest, his solar plexus, his sides, even his neck, and—

Veemon fell to the ground and pivoted, sweeping his legs right onto Daisuke's. The teenager fell on the grass, landing on his back. Thankfully Daisuke didn't suffer that much damage; the Primary Village's grounds weren't as solid as the real earth packed into other sections of the Digital World or the Real World for that matter.

Daisuke's pristine state wasn't going to last for long at this rate. Without stopping, his partner leaped in the air. Veemon had his elbow extended, apparently aiming for Daisuke's belly in what was an elbow slam in the making.

Takeru's fellow Chosen rolled out of the way, this time retaliating as soon as he got on one knee. "Dodge this, then!" Before Veemon knew what was happening, the teen managed two straight fists blasting into his chest.

"Ooof!" Veemon staggered backwards, falling awkwardly on his butt. A human may have been disoriented from such an attack, but not a digimon especially built for close combat. Why were they fighting in the first place?

"Takeru," Patamon notified. "Look!"

Daisuke dashed towards the dragon and clasped his hands together, raising them for one solid blow to the head. What was Daisuke even _thinking_, pushing forward when the digimon was by no means down and vulnerable? Takeru Takaishi wasn't even surprised by Veemon's control over the situation. The Digimon of Miracles planted his arms firmly on the ground, lifted his feet, and slammed **both** of them into the teen's _bare_ ribcage. Enough force was applied to knock Daisuke several meters back, forcing all the wind out of him.

Veemon rose to his feet in a split second, fists clenched and legs ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Daisuke recovered from the attack—no, he merely _attempted_ to. Whatever Veemon did had hurt the Chosen Child on the inside. Daisuke fumbled as he rose, returning to the earth and began coughing repeatedly.

His digital half sauntered towards him, the expression on his snout denoting not concern, but impassiveness. _Apathy _for his surrogate brother.

Takeru Takaishi had had enough. However "legitimate" this was by Daisuke's book, Veemon was going too far. He wasn't pulling his punches. He wasn't holding back. He was fighting for real, and Takeru had seen his and his friends' digimon fight enough times to _know_ the Chosen currently saw the Child of Miracles as an enemy to be beaten and subdued with force.

Someone **had** to intervene before Daisuke receives some long-lasting injury, and by Buddha's bald head, Takeru was ready to do so. He couldn't care less if this farce was for Daisuke's good. He wouldn't believe such lies for a second, even if they came straight from the mouth of the man's digital half.

The younger Motomiya may not consider him a friend at this point of time, but Takeru **did**. They were friends and comrades alike, and like **hell** was he going to let Veemon trample all over his human half. "Patamon," Takeru declared to his partner, overlooking the ramifications an intrusion might have on whatever was left of his friendship with Daisuke. "We're heading out. Daisuke's—

"No!"

"Huh?"

"Stay here, Takeru. Don't do—

He interrupted him. "Don't do anything?" Takeru said in disbelief. "But that's the **worst** thing we can do!" He whipped his arm at the scene. "If we just stay _put_, I can't imagine what else—

"Trust me!" the hamster piped. "Veemon knows what he's doing. He's _devoted_ to Daisuke—he'll never harm—

"Then explain this," the Chosen Child rejoined. He snapped his head back to take stock of the situation. Veemon now stood over Daisuke Motomiya, towering over his convulsing, hacking body. Takeru felt panic settling in. At that position, that crazy dragon could do **anything** to the teen!

The Child of Hope rolled up his sleeves and charged, making a beeline for the blue dragon. "Crap, forget _that. _We have to stop this now!" But before the teenager's strides brought him out of the bushes, Patamon _rammed_ into his side, knocking Takeru down.

"Pa, Patamon…"

Patamon glared at him. His stare was powerful, brimming with something that easily repelled Takeru's ability to lock eyes with his digital half. "I can't explain it in a way you'll understand," the orange hamster replied. His tone was unapologetic, to Takeru's surprise. The Digimon of Hope had never spoken with such a stern and reproachful voice before, especially not to him. "Look," he harangued. "Veemon and Daisuke are partners. What you're seeing is a part of their bond."

He took flight, hovering inches before his human half's face. "Just because we can't understand their relationship **doesn't mean a thing**, Takeru. You can't take things from _our_ context and apply it to theirs—

The return of Veemon's jovial giggling jolted both Takeru and his declaiming partner out of their intimate world. Their heads veered to the clearing, where the Digimon of Miracles was laughing, seemingly delighted at the sight of his brother gasping for breath. "Congratulations, Daisuke." He lauded, his manner of delivery confounding the spectators. "After four straight days of hell, you **finally** managed to hit me!"

Daisuke coughed in reply. "V-Veemon, y, you—I **hate** you."

The blue dragon ignored him for a second. He straightened his shirt and, in futility, spread out the folds and creases that had formed on it. A quick pout flashed on Veemon's muzzle when he noticed he couldnt't keep the Latias image smooth and even. "C'mon, lemme help you up."

Takeru expected Daisuke to reject it in some attempt to preserve his wounded pride. He was certainly proven wrong. The teenager clasped the dragon's palm and pulled himself up to a sitting position, Indian style. The two of them were level, and they held eye contact for a tense ten seconds before Daisuke Motomiya himself sighed. "Ugh, at least I made some progress."

Veemon huffed. "_A little_ progress, in my opinion." He rubbed his muzzle in such an arrogant, conceited manner he could've only inherited it from Daisuke. "You're **nowhere** near beating me in a fair fight, just so you know..."

"Do you **have** to fight me with _everything_ you've got?" Daisuke glanced down and analyzed the new bruise forming on his chest. A pair of visibly crimson blotches had shown up on his skin, coincidentally bearing the very shape of Veemon's three-toed feet. "Look at this. That last attack of yours is going to leave a mark!"

Veemon waved it off. "Eeehhh, don't worry about it. No one will notice 'em. I **gua, ran, tee** it."

"Of course no one will notice them! By the time we're done, you'll have _repainted_ my entire body black and blue!"

"Uhmmm… nooooooo?" disagreed Veemon. "We're not using any paint for your traini—

A pair of hands shot out and seized the dragon's neck. "BUDDHA!" Daisuke mercilessly and _violently _shook Veemon. He repeated it, again and again and _again_. Takeru began entertaining thoughts of Daisuke being an abusive partner. "That isn't what I meant, you moron!"

"Ara-ara-ara-ara-ara—

"You've been living with us for _two years and counting. _Can't you tell I didn't mean that **literally**?"

"B-bu-but i-it's t-the f-fi-fir-first t-time I h-hea-heard that, D-Dai-su-suke, s-sorry-ry!" He'd been stammering. "A-an-and c-can you puh, puh-lease s-sto-stop sh-shake-shaking me s-so h-hard? I c-can b-barely spuh, spuh-speak."

At his request the Chosen Child ceased his abuse, opting instead to lift the dragon by the armpits and bring his face closer to Veemon's muzzle as he ground his own teeth in anger. "I'm waiting."

"Uhhhhhhmmmmmm, I don't really mind but isn't this is a little **too** close for you?"

Daisuke's russet spheres narrowed. Veemon twitched from the body language, probably realizing how easier it was to intimidate him from this close. "I'm _waiting_."

"W-well, I figured, eehhhhhhhh," he dawdled, letting his tongue linger on the syllable almost _too_ long. "I figured you'd improve much better—and **faster**— if I, y'know, 'take it up a notch' and ramp up the pressure.

"And you pick things up _quick_." Veemon added, trying to be frank and impartial to Daisuke's handling. From the sheepish sound of his childish voice, it wasn't _that_ convincing. It in fact left Takeru with a lasting impression the dragon was grasping for straws here. "It's already day four and your reflexes are _starting_ to keep up with me! If—if you ducked right when I gave you that donkey kick and lunged at me like I taught you to, you'd land right on top of me and—

"We would've started grappling."

"Nope!" Veemon's thick tail was wagging. "You'd pin me down in this weird position and"—A sly grin.—"maybe, I think, **maaaayyybe** you could've won."

Daisuke blushed from the pep talk. "Now that you put it that way…"

"Once you get a hang of my style and my speed," Veemon encouraged further, "you'll run circles around the next bully soon enough!"

He cocked an eyebrow. "You _really_ think I will? I'm not exactly built for close combat like you."

Veemon rolled his eyes. "So what?" He boasted, "I'm stronger **and** faster than almost any human in the Real World. You'll be thanking me for this eventually, Daisuke, I **promise**!"

A new voice chimed from the direction of the Primary Village. "Blame those troubles on your upbringing, Chosen Child. Your partner possesses **much** more experience than _you_ and the fact he's a natural at fighting doesn't help your case anyway."

Takeru and Patamon froze at the rugged cadence of the newcomer. The source was relatively _close_ to their position, and whoever it was, Takeru didn't want their positions revealed lest Daisuke called him out for breaching his right to privacy. Bushes several meters from where they were rustled and tousled until a black bear emerged from the shrubs, its tongue sticking out as it dealt with a stray leaf stuck to the inverted baseball cap worn on the head.

"Heeeey, Kumamon! Glad to see you're here." Veemon wiggled in Daisuke's grip until the teenager set him down from discomfort, mouth opening to whisper something Takeru couldn't hear from his position. The Chosen Child watched Motomiya's digital half jog closer to the bear—closer to the two hidden observers.

Takeru Takaishi could've sworn time slowed down when Veemon got close enough to catch his and Patamon's scents nearby. The blue dragon **actually** stopped, lifting his muzzle as though inhaling as much of the strange air as possible. His eyes were already tracing the direction of their scents when Kumamon extended a paw for him to shake. _Whew._

"That looks a bit unwieldy," commented Patamon, his turquoise eyes ogling the multiple leather belts wrapped around either paw. "Doesn't it, Takeru?"

"It does. That's a lot of leather."

Patamon studied the newcomer, paying close attention to the way he carried himself. There was this air of formality around Kumamon, along with a firm demeanor permeating his every move that Takeru found familiar. "You know," spoke the hamster, "he reminds me of someone…"

Veemon obviously had no problems with the makeshift glove. "We've been looking for you this morning. Where'd you go? Weren't you going to teach Daisuke stances and some other stuff?"

"That was my intention but…"

Anyone could envision a big drop of sweat forming on Kumamon's head right about now. "But I was training my swimming skills in the lake and I…" Muzzle curling into a frown from the shame alone, "I got lost on my way back."

Unbeknownst to Kumamon, Veemon had suddenly become preoccupied, losing interest in whatever the black bear had for a reply. A strange but familiar scent—two of them—had registered again in his unseen nose and the curiosity had been too strong for the blue dragon to ignore this time. Had Patamon or Takeru been aware of his resumed search, they would've retreated further into the undergrowth beyond Veemon's line of sight.

As the two of them were busy discussing Kumamon's disciplined character, neither Patamon nor his human half realized they were partly visible to the Digimon of Miracles—when any of the Chosen digimon were concerned, this was something that had practically zero difference from rushing out into the open in their birthday suits and screaming for attention at the top of their lungs.

"Psst."

Takeru and Patamon trembled from the sudden hiss. A paw and a hand shot out from them, covering each other's mouths as the two Chosen slowly panned their eyes, locking their gaze with Veemon's. The Child of Hope blanched upon becoming conscious of the fact they had just been discovered. Takaishi was about to gesture a plea for discretion when the Digimon of Miracles smiled in their direction, and mouthed a cheerful "Hi!" One of his hands moved subtly, giving them a friendly wave invisible to all but the three of them.

Joining the two Child levels, Daisuke had unwittingly become the diversion when he caught himself listening to the bear and promptly retorted, "Wait, Elecmon said you used to protect File Island five years ago. So… don't digimon remember **everything** in their previous lives when they're reborn? You couldn't have gotten lost!"

Veemon clipped the bear in the shoulder. "Yeah, Kumamon! I was wondering that myself…"

"No, you weren't," countered his surrogate brother.

"**Now** I am!" He tittered. "That got me interested all of a sudden."

Takeru and Patamon looked at each other. "He's _so _nosy," mumbled the Chosen Child. His digital half presented him with an odd look and shrugged off the remark, indicating he had acclimated to this peculiar trait and accepted Veemon for who he was.

For some reason, Takeru's comment invoked memories from his own past. Rapid flashes of scenery when **he** was younger, when **he** was the one Yamato and the others had to look after and protect. Had he been this nosy back then, too? "Hey, Patamon."

"Yeah?"

He turned to his digital half, aiming to slam him with this very question only to be stopped when the answer came to him right on cue: his growing desire to know who exactly Kumamon was. He shook his head. "Scratch that, forget I said anything."

"'Kay," Patamon dismissed, completely disinterested. "Now **shhh**! I wanna hear Kumamon's story. He keeps reminding me of someone, but I can't imagine a face to go with it—

"That's because you both met him the first time you went here," his consternation was interrupted.

Patamon sat up, the expression on his snout serious. "That narrows the list very much!" Combined with his tiny and fluffy body, the orange hamster looked **so** cute with a puzzled frown on his face. "Hmmm…"

It took Takeru every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to caress his puffy cheeks right then and there, knowing it would break his concentration and (possibly) annoy him. Maybe he should start bringing a camera around like Hikari, simply for moments like this. The thought of bothering his mom about this was rejected in an instant—Takeru found a part-time job more preferable and aligned with the independence he had gained from his experiences. Perhaps the Inoues wouldn't mind having another pair of hands at their convenience store.

"Elecmon definitely stands out, but if I remember correctly—

Takeru stopped listening. He just realized someone else had answered for Patamon. Someone **else** gave them the answer they needed. Surprised, the Chosen Child whipped his head towards the other voice, startled by the fact another digimon had snuck up on them. This was the second intrusion in less than five minutes! Was Kumamon being accompanied by another friend? The conversation he was having with Daisuke and Veemon didn't seem to suggest—

Elecmon stood behind them. The crimson digimon rested on his hind legs and kept his front crossed before his chest. Tiny arcs of electricity and plasma snaked along his nine tails, occasionally putting on a show of intimidation that worked **really well** on Takeru. "Why don't you go on out and ask him then?"

Patamon discerned the new digimon's presence as well and gyrated, taking to the air in shock. "Eep!"

Takeru shook his head. "Sorry, Elecmon, but that's not a good idea."

He drawled, "Because…?"

"We don't want Daisuke and Veemon to know we're—

"Spying on them like a couple stalkers?"

"No, no, no! We were only concerned for—

"Then all the more you should get out there!"

Patamon hovered closer to the mammal, peering into his blue eyes. "Pleeeaaaaaassseee, they might get angry if—

The nine tails suddenly popped open and fanned out. Elecmon's ocher fur accentuated the indigo plumes scattered all over the digimon's body, if not underscoring the intensifying electricity wandering amidst his tails.

Takeru inched towards the clearing. "Uh oh. He **isn't**—

Patamon flapped his wings, easily passing his partner. "Oh yes he is!"

Elecmon gave the two a wickedly mischievous smile. "SPARKLING THUNDER!"

"WAAAHHH!"

* * *

**To be concluded...**

* * *

**Author's notes:**

[4] And you read right. Veemon's wearing a _Pokemon-_themed shirt. I figured he'd like the show since he's such a child, despite the message it would propagate in the _Adventure _continuity's context. More on this in the last part. ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's notes:**

[1] I am so ashamed this took so long! Although 90% was done by the time I posted the second part, the fact was I was **unsure** over the portrayal of the characters here, particularly Takeru and Daisuke. I ran this through **LBAnime** and **Arika Ito** (and for the first half, **ShadowPrince61 **of dA) for guidance on the character handling. Imagine my astonishment when I discovered their responses **varied**, especially when it came to Daisuke's behavior.

Although this phenomenon makes for an insightful reflection over how the concept of a fictional character is shaped by the individuals who view them from the context of their own beliefs, principles, and personal experience, this does not help my situation as the writer one bit. I can only pray that you find my character handling adequate.

[2] The finale is **13,125** words long, bringing the grand total to roughly **22,700** words, equating to a full-length chapter of my main story. Whew! Glad to finally get this done and over with.

[3] Responses to previous reviews:

**Kingveemon**: Glad to know my attempts to write a humorous story went well. Though I'd like it if you stop pestering me with the main story. I'll update it when I can.

**Thinker**: Certainly this is much shorter, not to mention a different atmosphere than the miasma pervading _The Interloper_. It was a challenge for me to write, and I had to take it very seriously too since it was connected to my canon. Anyway, thank you for the comments, and most of all for the recognition of my skill in fostering reader immersion.

As for your minor complaints, as you are a seasoned linguist, I _stand corrected_. Going forward, I am hoping you could help me by providing more modern and realistic Japanese expletives (at least those that have no direct translation in English). It's extremely difficult to successfully portray another nation's culture when I'm not a part of it myself, but I strive for it anyway since the _Adventure _continuity does take place in the Tokyo Metropolis... not to mention I'm a diehard adherent to the source material or a close substitute for it.

**LBAnime**: Thanks for the comments. They vindicate the time and effort I spent on the short story. As for your main points...

a. Hikari couldn't go to Daisuke himself because he's already repudiated his friendship with her and Takeru for about a year already. Besides, her personality doesn't strike me as assertive enough to confront Daisuke... not to mention he isn't doing anything crazy anyway. (By "crazy", I mean some of the things the shippers usually make the rejected party do. Ask _Lord Pata_ for more information.)

b. Veemon and Patamon's friendship begins developing during the victory party mentioned earlier in the short story, because things get really out of hand and you know how mischievous some digimon can be. ;) This will be written in the main story, during the second half of the third arc. So... you've got to wait for a long time then!

c. Veemon/Chibimon **is** childish. Watch _Digimon Grand Prix_, look at the few episodes Chibimon had actual screentime in the Real World, and listen to what Veemon says during his speech to BlackWarGreymon. Also, the way he is being affectionate here is a logical extension of this personality, and of his nature as a dragon (my model for this is _How to Train Your Dragon_, particularly the masterpieces made by Antic Repartee, Whitefang333, and Fjord Mustang, all of who have depicted the main dragon character as fully sentient but still animalistic in terms of affectionate behavior).

d. Everything depicted in this story is the result of the dynamic Daisuke and Veemon appear to have based on the source material. I'm just being **selective **as the writer by showing the story simply within this context. *wink wink*

**Mordart**: I'm responding to your review here because you weren't signed in, so I won't be able to reply directly to you. (I hope that wasn't intentional.) Scroll to the bottom, if you're interested in what I have to say. If you must reply, sign in and let's discuss in private.

[4] And now... on to the finale! Enjoy. All feedback and criticisms **highly welcome**.

* * *

**DAISUKE IN TRAINING**

**Part III of III - Daisuke Motomiya**

* * *

There were several reasons why Takeru Takaishi didn't want Daisuke ever discovering them. The first was a stupid one, to be sure. Elecmon struck the bulls-eye when he said they had been stalking both Chosen of Miracles like creeps. The second one was more sensible. Daisuke and Veemon were alone, bonding in their own little way and learning from each other. There was certainly no harm in that—Takeru and Patamon regularly had their own "one on one" sessions too, but if there was one thing they had come to value, it was the privacy that came with such intimate moments.

Sharing this wonderful experience of strengthening his relationship with Patamon with a significant other—with Hikari _and_ her digital half—was no less special than it would have with the two of them alone. Perhaps, Takeru conjectured, it was even more so.

Unfortunately, Daisuke Motomiya's jealousy was so inclined to disagree. As much as Takeru didn't want to accept it—as much as it actually _hurt_ given what they've gone through a couple years back, right now the Chosen Child considered neither he nor his special someone as friends. Hikari Yagami speculated it was some sort of regression, but Takeru didn't care. He hated losing friends, especially if it was for a reason like this.

He had hoped to find a way to get the old Daisuke back, but as Takeru watched the Child of Miracles raise a finger at him and his digital half, his mouth growing wider and wider, quivering during an attempt to utter something—anything to articulate the astonishment racking his brain, the Child of Hope knew this awkward situation did not help him one bit.

"T-T-Ta," Daisuke stammered. "T-Take—

Veemon ignored the speechlessness of his human half. "And look who _finally_ decided to come out!" He grinned, slapping a high five with Patamon. The Digimon of Miracles stared up at Takeru and offered his hand for a good shake. Takeru accepted, of course, but as they shook warmly, the Chosen Child inspected the dragon's body.

He was unable to mask the surprise that soon exuded from his ultramarine spheres. Not only had Veemon somehow retained some composure despite his partner but also the digimon was now about as tall as his thighs. Didn't he just match up to his knees two years ago? To think Daisuke hadn't been lying about the growth spurts after all. Incredible! Had Koushirou been here with him, for sure he'd wonder if the other digimon would grow too.

Before the blue dragon could speak further, Daisuke managed to wrest some self-control and, interrupting Takeru's amazement, direct his shock into something more productive. "Takeru! What are you doing here?"

Recalling the immediate situation, beads of sweat started cascading down his forehead."Uhm…" This was the _worst_ possible scenario. Maybe he should've consulted with Jun about approaching Daisuke. Even that silly Himura could've helped, being a businessman of some sort. "I, er, well, I…"

"Daisuke," his digital half butted in. "They've been over there in the bushes for awhile. I smelled them when I went to greet Kumamon." Takeru frowned. That damn Veemon! Still the same tactless **kid** as always.

The bear in question rubbed it in. "They were watching you both spar." Kumamon had leaned back on the tree, smirking at the sight of two Chosen Children quarreling amongst each other.

Gah!

"You **creep**," Daisuke hissed, relishing the acid now flying out of his lips. "You're **not** supposed to be here. You shouldn't even know about this! Why the **f*ck** aren't you in a _certain_ house, in a _certain _room, making out with a _certain_ some—HEY!

Somehow, Veemon had retrieved the pool noodle without all of them noticing and thwacked his human half at the perfect time. "C'moooon, don't be like that!" He scolded. "Mmmaaaybe they, uh, came for the training too!"

Daisuke's russet spheres bore into his own partner, the intensity of the glare intimidating enough to force the blue dragon to take a single step back. "Veemon." Daisuke did not verbalize the Chosen's name so much as he _growled_ at him. "This was supposed to be **OUR** secret!" The teenager held a scathing expression of betrayal and hurt. "**OUR **moment!" His eyes bounced from Takeru's digital half to his own repeatedly, transfixed in a state of constant flux as though it was a ping pong ball being slapped around by players enamored by the competitive spirit.

Veemon had been quick to notice the little game of table tennis going on within his partner. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He raised his hands defensively. "It's not what you're thinking, Daisuke! I swear, I didn't tell anyone about our training!" Sweatdrops formed on his leathery skin. "T-though I'll admit i-it would've been real fun if we had the others with us—

Thankfully Patamon's own interjections saved Veemon from the Child of Miracles' ire. "You got that right, Veemon! I can sooooo imagine pelting Takeru _repeatedly _with _Air Shot_."

Deadpan, Takeru ignored Patamon's prattle and made his way towards Daisuke. "See? Nobody knew what you're _both_ doing, so your partner didn't really do anything." He swung an arm round the Chosen Child's shoulder. "Look, ever since that incident last week, you started acting weird all of a sudden and Hikari—

Daisuke Motomiya slapped his arm off with such force it stung Takaishi's hand. "ARGH!" He shoved the other teen away, in full view of the three digimon, and took on a rather threatening pose. "Of course you'd think I was weird!" Takeru's chest tightened at the prospect of fighting Daisuke. Mentioning Hikari's name had obviously been a mistake and now clouds of violence loomed on the horizon. For a few seconds, the Child of Hope twitched with the urge to apologize for instigating this, even if it hadn't been intentional on his part. "**YOU'RE** not the budding athlete who just got his ass handed to him by a bunch of hobos!"

Takeru attempted to mollify, "But that's not what I'm saying—

"It doesn't matter!" roared the Child of Miracles. His voice was colored with so much anger and rage Takeru wondered how much he had been letting these dark emotions fester inside him. How much he bottled it up, struggling to contain it day after day after day. Hikari had been right to worry about him, but Daisuke was just as wrong to ignore them both and pretend she and Takeru were merely acquaintances, ignoring the experiences they went through together. "The fact remains **you** held your ground while _Fladramon_ had to bail me out!

"Don't you realize how _embarrassing_ that was, huh?" Daisuke's face turned red. "Don't you?"

"Quit beating yourself up over it!" Veemon interposed, taking the assuagement right from Takeru's mouth. "You just _lack_ the fighting experience. I keep telling you, quick reflexes don't work if you don't know what to do with it! Believe me, Daisuke, I _thrive_ in close quarters—

The flying hamster was cognizant of the tension, and he was just as ready as Veemon to get between the two teenagers if Daisuke's antagonism remained untamed. A shame some of Veemon's indiscretion had rubbed off on him. "Hey, Takeru, you didn't have that much experience a couple years ago when you fought Ken—

"SHHHHH!" Takeru hushed. "That's _not_ helping me here!" he muttered.

Kumamon, still leaning on the tree, could not be stopped the same way Takeru silenced his digimon partner. "Ahhh, that's right," he mused. "I've heard the stories." He eyed the Child of Hope. "One unarmed kid took down the Digimon Kaiser and his whip…"

The junior Motomiya stiffened at the casual remark. Takeru scowled at Kumamon. Didn't he know he was provoking Daisuke? What was he up to, adding fuel to the blazing heat emanating throughout this argument? The way the bear was gazing Daisuke lent credence to the possibility some sort of test was going on right at this very moment.

He didn't know where he should place the digimon. Takeru Takaishi wanted to write off Kumamon's actions as gross disrespect towards Daisuke's emotional state and an offensive intrusion of their privacy. Yet for all the Chosen Child knew, Kumamon might very well have been trying to expose all the underlying stress still concealed beneath the surface, so that whatever insecurities Daisuke is suffering from could be dispelled once and for all.

For the moment, Takeru settled with despondence. A sickening gloom that preceded the worst case scenario or, as he'd prefer, the darkness before the dawn. Daisuke Motomiya was inscrutable, the pressure palpable enough to silence their digital halves—force them to hold their breath as the Child of Miracles decided.

To spark violence or maintain the fragile tranquility.

To snub his concerns or appreciate them.

To wallow in immaturity or take the first step to real growth.

To dismiss the closeness of their relationship or to remember they were all comrades brought together by a higher power.

To dissolve their friendship out of petty jealousy or to rise above the pangs of rejection.

"So," Daisuke exhaled slowly, discharging the heated bile percolating within. The lingering pause did not bode well; Veemon's digital half struggled to find the proper words. For the three years he's known him, Takeru couldn't tell whether the Child of Miracles was deliberating on the basis of diplomacy or self-discipline. He was as nervous as the alienated spectators, his mind radiating some hope the adolescent before him, body glistening with sweat, would have grown up with respect to this fact of life.

"What brings you here?"

On the outset, the question was innocent enough—rather, the antipathy envenoming its prior articulations was absent. Yet Takeru knew his respite was fragile. Any mistake would cast this delicate peace into the throes of pandemonium. Proceeding with caution, "I was saying, Hikari was beginning to worry about your behavior since"—he paused, exploring the depths of his vocabulary for the proper verbiage. Something that alluded to Daisuke's alleged pinnacle of humiliation without invoking its memory outright—"_that incident_.

"We know you don't." Takeru's voice cracked at that moment, some of the long-ignored hurt seeping into his words, "You don't really talk to both of us anymore, b-but we've **never** had you skip out on the entire group during lunch breaks. You're always disappearing the moment we're all dismissed from school, and everyone I ask don't seem to know what's gotten into you.

He caught Daisuke sending a vicious glare to his partner. "Chibimon's been _mum_ over the whole thing, by the way. He isn't _that_ loose-lipped." His tone turned reproachful. "Don't forget, he **loves** you unconditionally." However loyal Veemon was to his human half, he wasn't someone Daisuke could force himself on; likewise Takeru could never coerce Patamon into something the hamster wouldn't approve.

The message was their partners were independent—their _friends_ were autonomous. True persons, regardless of species and origins, were free to act however they wished in accordance to codes of ethics mandated by the individual sovereign. Just because Veemon was friends with the two Daisuke apparently refused to associate with didn't mean he should be angry at him for it.

Takeru Takaishi had no way of knowing whether this lesson had sunk in. Daisuke was still expressionless, and as the Child of Miracles replied, once more did anxiety preside over this discussion. "You didn't need to know that."

"But Daisuke! We were worried—_Hikari_'s already wondering if you'd gone somewhere and did something stu—

"Tell her to mind her own business."

"W, w-what?"

"You heard me." The junior Motomiya stepped closer, strengthening the noisome odor of his sweat. His nose wanted to back away, but to save face and maintain his position, Takeru couldn't afford letting his body do whatever it wanted, not when Daisuke seemed to be as cold, as distant, and as unfriendly as he had been the day Takeru and Hikari got together. "Tell **your** **girlfriend** to keep her crap to herself and stop meddling in someone else's business." The two accentuated words did not escape Takeru's notice. How could he, when the teenager verbalized them with such rabid drawl they seemed to leave behind a blatant, nauseating aftertaste.

Attentive to this, Veemon whined as soon as his partner's surly retort went out. "Daisukeeee…"

His human half did not react. Takeru thought he was expending so much effort to stop himself from exploding, anything and everything Veemon groused about probably went through both his ears. "She doesn't care," the athlete went on, his voice brimming with a bitter conviction. An acrid recognition of reality that, until now, tore at him. "And I know **you** don't really give a damn either."

"I…"

Takeru didn't know what to say to this. When he arrived in Primary Village to speak with Daisuke, he had been hoping for the teenager to view his situation across his own emotions, or at the very least, to remain courteous and civil throughout this exchange. Yet even with such hopes in mind, Takeru had expected something more jejune, a reaction no different from an emotional outburst. A cry of adolescent anguish.

"She…"

Not once did Takeru expect a Daisuke who grew numb to two of his friends and write **both of them** off for this stupid, insignificant teenage drama.

Heat began coalescing in Takeru's spirit, frothing into gnashing teeth and a pair of quivering fists, both of which he could barely restrain. "We don't care?" There was nothing else more callow than what the Child of Miracles had done behind his and Hikari's backs. "You think we **don't** care?

"Hey!" The Chosen Child planted one foot forward, his face morphing into a ferocious scowl. A hauntingly similar expression to whatever he had worn when he and Iori discovered the scores of digimon incarcerated and tormented by the Digimon Kaiser. "I went all the way to your apartment today, on a **SATURDAY**, just to check up on you!"

"So you can gloat? Rub it in some more?" Stepping forward as well, "That's why you're here, isn't it?" His arm started to rise. "That's why you didn't even bother showing yourself when—

"No, man! You've got the wrong idea—

Somehow, despite all the pressure he'd undergone in his two adventures, despite holding his own through last week's battle to its end, Takeru had overlooked the close distance between them. He hadn't realized he was chest-to-chest with Daisuke until the teen's arm snapped forward and thrust an index finger right into his sternum.

The move was so surprising the Child of Hope backpedaled, so astonished he nearly missed the accusations that followed. "You were hiding over there, watching." Daisuke flared. "**EAVESDROPPING!**" Not even the embarrassed blush on his colleague's face stopped the assault. "You must be proud, aren't you? Stealing **MY** girl away from me…"

Takeru groaned. "We're **NOT** having this one-sided conversation again!"

He did not acknowledge the grouse. "…and oozing with confidence over the fact you fought off those jerks much better than—

Patamon flew by Daisuke, compelled to act by the instinct to defend his human half. "Stop it!" One of his wings clipped his face before the orange hamster boomeranged closer to Takeru. Hovering right between the two of them, "Just _stop_ it!"

Veemon was still. The fact he did nothing at all in lieu of the light blemish appearing on his partner's face indicated his silent approval. "You two are friends," clamored Takaishi's digital half. "**FRIENDS**! You fought battles together. You saved **our** worlds together. Get a grip! You can't just throw away—

Even as Patamon lectured Veemon's human partner, supplanting what must have been months of personal, intimate discussions over the subject of _Takari_, the term Veemon himself coined out of fun, Takeru Takaishi foresaw the rejection, the rebuke that had long been imminent.

Anyone in his position could've easily predicted it as this confrontation unfolded. The sharpening glare was unmistakable. As soon as the flying hamster mentioned the word "friends", Daisuke's countenance darkened as it would have if BelialVamdemon stood in front of him rather than another Chosen Child. Motomiya gnashed his teeth harder than Takeru ground his own, shook his fists more violently than one of his team's only link to the first generation of Chosen.

Daisuke was through with this. "That _bastard_ **ISN'T MY FRIEND!**" He spat on the ground—an act of utmost disrespect.

On the occasional night, Takeru Takaishi found himself reflecting over the days following the moment he and Hikari announced their relationship to their friends. He cogitated not because he was content, satisfied, and even uplifted to be chosen by the junior Yagami, but because he was confused over the changes in Daisuke's behavior from that moment onward.

They had brought a corrupt tyrant from the malevolent delusions strung by his puppeteers, discovered the final antagonist in this second "adventure", and released the two worlds forever from his dark ambitions. While they were by no means out of the woods yet—for two of the villains still remain within the confines of the Dark Ocean, perhaps engaged in collusion or some sort of rivalry—Takeru was certain the work they had done so far, up until now, was meritorious of the close relationships everybody in the second generation had with each other, compounded by the developments they have surely undergone as individuals and as a group.

So why did Daisuke react so badly to Takeru and Hikari's mutual intimacy? Why did he suddenly recoil at them, writing them off as though they had been strangers to begin with? Where did the mature Daisuke go? Why did his behavior regress to that of a juvenile kid deluded by some twisted faith he could _will_ another's choices?

But Takeru was not the only one pondering over these questions. Veemon was as puzzled as the Child of Hope, and that couldn't have been made any clearer by the conversation he was having at this very moment with Elecmon.

The sole babysitter of Primary Village's innumerous newborns had probably expected to see smiles and laughter after driving Takeru and Patamon out of the forest and into the open hills where the two Chosen could see each other. Had the Child of Hope caught him strolling into the scene, he would have observed with full clarity the expression of cheer morphing speedily into that of astonishment and shock.

Takeru knew Joe would be agog to see this unfold in slow motion, considering the Child of Reliability's vested interest in digimon physiology. "Kumamon," Elecmon asked, "what's going on?"

Kumamon shrugged at the question. "Beats me. Human problems, I guess." His eyes glimpsed the blue dragon leaning on the tree next to his, staying still, unmoved even by Patamon's sudden intervention. "Lord Veemon?"

The Digimon of Miracles' muzzle held a dumbfounded frown. It seemed jaded. Something he must have worn often, every time his human partner anguished about some issue beyond his understanding. "Don't bother asking me," he replied. "I don't get it myself.

"Ever since one of the humans started hanging out with Takeru more and more," he scratched his head. "Eh, Daisuke started acting all weird and… ugh, I just don't get it. He's normal around everyone _else_, but…"

A weary sigh escaped his snout. "Uhhh, he's only like this towards Hikari and Takeru." Overt confusion glazed his crimson eyes. The densest person in either world would have found it impossible to miss. "He even asked me to be like this with Tailmon, and lump some, s-some hate on Patamon, too."

Takeru Takaishi would've been sad to hear this. Had Daisuke been so livid at reality he had gone so far as to influence his digital half into adopting his own views, to curtailing Veemon's own independence? Sure, the partners were intrinsically connected to them. Perhaps they were the living embodiment of a soulmate, complementing the human being and being a platform for personal growth and development. But no one could ever deny the digital monsters their rational sovereign. Their independence.

"And I, I-I, I can't." Veemon's hesitance communicated this point. "I **can't** just do that. It's… It's wrong! Yet when I argue back, Daisuke, Daisuke doesn't—he **won't** even...!"

Words failed him completely. The blue dragon went quiet, his tongue settling down as a sad or frustrated whine rumbled from his throat. Hikari and Tailmon alike would've rushed to comfort him immediately. Takeru might have put a hand over his shoulder and attempt to explain just what he couldn't understand about his partner, while Patamon—being his best friend—would have indulged his playful side, slap Veemon with his wings, and engage him in some hyperactive game to distract him from this uncertainty, from what he found incomprehensible. Daisuke Motomiya, as his partner and surrogate brother, would've indulged him for a day just to put a smile on his muzzle.

So long as their positions didn't clash too strongly, however.

Neither Elecmon nor Kumamon had the benefit of a close relationship with Veemon. Relaying their sympathies was all the two locals could do, but concerned gazes and empty platitudes would never be enough to allay his anxiety and perplexity. For now, Veemon settled with impassive scrutiny. If Takeru and Patamon could do something not even _he_ couldn't, he would be eternally grateful for having them as friends.

"I'm telling you," Takeru Takaishi had been arguing. The two had been going at each other non-stop. The fact Daisuke hadn't succumbed to his impulses and started a fistfight as he was prone to do was a miracle in its own right. "I thought it was the best way I could learn something and help you cope.

"You don't even treat Hikari and I like we're friends. You just ignore us and"—the Child of Hope cracked. It was slight and momentary, but anyone paying attention certainly caught this.—"and we don't know what's going on with you. Ken's always out doing rounds, Miyako's too busy being his _third_ shadow, and Iori's got enough on his plate working with the NPA—

"Come on!" Daisuke grumbled. Exasperated, "you **both** know what's going on! Don't act like you don't know it." He shook his head.

"But you're better than this, Daisuke!" Takaishi countered. "You're _much_ better!"

"Yeah!" added Patamon. "You got out of BelialVamdemon's illusion waaayy before everyone else did! If it wasn't because of your determination, our partners wouldn't have escaped in time and that big, bad vampire would've killed us all!"

"Uh huh." Daisuke was unresponsive. He had _remained _so since the beginning of this quarrel. Takeru and his digital half had been at this for so long it was beginning to irk him. How could Daisuke Motomiya continue this obstinacy? This pointless angst? It wasn't like Takeru and Hikari were ignoring him. It wasn't like they turned their backs on him as they spent more time with each other as a couple. They offered their company to him as much as Tailmon and Patamon did with Veemon, who had not only accepted but also someway fit himself into their personal lives even as the other nine pairs of Chosen went on separate ways in pursuit of their dreams and vocations without compromising their shared responsibility over the recent, ongoing phenomenon of countless people receiving digimon partners of their own…

He swallowed the fear this conversation was headed nowhere. Reasoning with Motomiya was not working.

Takeru had attempted to assault the absurd logic underpinning Daisuke's stance. This failed.

A third party (Patamon) intervened to remind Daisuke about who his true friends were, and how he shouldn't be treating them like he was in full control of their thoughts, actions, and desires. This failed.

Takeru singled out Veemon's decision to loiter around Elecmon and Kumamon instead of jumping to his defense when Patamon struck the dragon's human half. The Chosen Child called it an implicit sign of approval, signaling a silent plea for help in getting Daisuke out of the rut he dug himself in. This failed.

The argument then brought Takeru _and_ Patamon both to the defensive, as the two had to explain why they didn't reveal themselves to Daisuke and Veemon until Elecmon came in and flushed them out of their spot. Despite the valid reasoning, this, too, failed.

An epiphany gripped Takeru. It sobered him. It produced a new insight into that battle two years ago. "_No_," Takaishi concluded grimly. "That wasn't determination at all." Ultramarine spheres stared straight into Daisuke's russet eyes, his lips flat and devoid of any emotion. "In the end, it's only **classic** Motomiya stubbornness."

His fellow interlocutor exhaled. Teeth bared, Daisuke clenched his fists. "Why you…"

The hostilities were reviving, brought to life by Takeru's mordant reduction of Daisuke's most defining moment in that final battle. The teenager's threatening posture did not escape Takaishi's notice, and at once he realized his colleague was on the brink of assaulting him.

"Take that back."

Patamon hovered inches closer to his human half, eyes steeled at the possibility he might have to hurt another Chosen Child, even if the aggression being ostentatiously displayed presented no real danger. Takeru Takaishi himself did not back down. His gaze was wrapped tight in pity and sadness. Violence between friends wasn't right. Not even Yamato and Taichi faced each other down this way, not with the amount of hate and envy flourishing in Daisuke Motomiya's russet eyes.

"Why should I? Deep down, you know it's true."

"I said take that back."

"You never _really_ grew up."

"Just **shut up**, why don't'cha!" He leapt at Takeru without hesitation.

The Child of Hope wasn't even looking at him when Daisuke commenced the attack. Takeru's ultramarine orbs were fixated on the blue dragon watching them at a slight distance, his muzzle mirroring the conflicted emotions glistening in Takaishi's face and his entire body flaccid. Or so it seemed; the attention in those scarlet eyes betrayed the lethargy already in display. The posture was interpreted instantly.

Implicit approval.

Motomiya sidestepped out of a point-blank _Air Shot_ from Patamon, swatting the auburn digimon away with his hand. The digimon's combat experience, maneuvering space, and flying skills saved him from planting his snout in the bouncy hills without much effort. One more second was all it would take to bring him back to the air, ready to knock Daisuke away from his human half.

One second was all that Daisuke needed. He swiveled in front of Takeru and bent his knees as though avoiding a counterattack aimed at his head. One his colleague never sent his way. This flashy movement was followed by a rapidly approaching clothesline from Daisuke's left arm. Takeru glimpsed an opening, one that would allow him to completely evade the attack and respond with one of his own.

The blond ducked out of harm's way, legs ready to act as soon as possible, the muscles twitching for excitement. Whether Takeru was going to reply Daisuke's hostility with aggression or not was a question left to the Harmonious Ones to ponder. At that moment, Elecmon's shrill voice reached _both_ their ears. "AAAHHHH!" Neither fighter missed the crackling sparks of lightning beyond their fields of vision. "NO MORE FIGHTING!"

"Eep!" Patamon saw it coming. "Takeru!"

**This** Veemon did not approve. As soon as he heard the sparks, the blue dragon sprang at the red creature at once, the speed of his approach belying his deceptively lax bearing. "Elecmon, no!"

"SPARKLING THUNDER!"

Patamon had tackled his human half in the nick of time. One second Takeru was halfway down to the ground, and the next he felt something _hard_ collide with his ribs, forcing him to the ground with so much force he and his assailant bounced and rolled down the hill. "Ooof!"

Vertigo and disorientation caused by the movement confused Takeru to no end, yet he managed a glimpse of Daisuke's fate.

"S-sh, shit!" The Child of Miracles had fallen on his butt, astonished by the unexpected thunderbolt. He wasn't hurt in any way at all, but from the way his legs were moving and the clattering teeth Takeru _found audible_ _from his position_ gave away the dread creeping up Daisuke's spine. He couldn't ridicule the teen for falling silent in outright shock—Elecmon's attack may have been weak and he may have been a Child-level digimon, but the crack of lightning had produced enough heat to startle the nerves without making skin contact and enough electricity to leave behind a nasty tingling feeling all over the body.

Striking the ground in front of the Chosen point-blank, with his digimon partner saving him not by pushing him out of harm's way as Patamon had done but by crashing into Elecmon before the lightning arced straight into him… Buddha knew how Daisuke Motomiya was faring now.

"What is **wrong** with you?" Quick action by Daisuke's digital half had saved the teen from unimaginable agony nonetheless. "That was a _full charge_!" Veemon had ambushed Elecmon, landing a completely unprecedented headbutt to the side of his body long before Kumamon could raise his insulated hand to attempt stopping the dragon. "You nearly **fried** my brother!"

They rolled down the hill. "Whoahohohohoaaaaa—

Elecmon's squeals ended as soon as they crashed a short distance from Takeru and Patamon. The Child of Hope watched as Veemon continued the offensive, hammering the babysitter's exposed underside with his fists. Fists he knew were strong enough to break bones. "And you almost hit my other friends with that bolt!"

"I—_ow_!—I'm sor—**rmph!**—they-kept-fighting-and—

"Can it! They weren't going to _gut_ each other out. You should've just—

"Stop **punching** me!" Elecmon lashed out, whipping a furry, muscular arm at the Chosen. Veemon backed off before the babysitter could do any serious damage. Regrettably Elecmon's claws went straight through his white shirt.

A tragedy Veemon had yet to notice. He was simply too mad. Too enraged. "That's _nothing_ compared to what you just did."

"I _told_ you, Lord Veemon—

"And quit calling me that!"

"—I'm sorry! But I couldn't think of anything else to stop the fight. You and Kumamon weren't moving and…"

"**What**? I was paying attention as much as you did!"

"Then why didn't you do anything?"

"Because I didn't have to! It's not like they're fighting seriously—

"But Lord Patamon did something!"

Takeru glanced at his partner, his gaze inquisitive. What was with the title, he wondered. The Digimon of Hope shrugged, preferring to pant as his wings were still, drooped on the ground. He hoped this wasn't going to catch on.

"Well I **trusted** him not to hurt Daisuke, unlike _you_, you dumb"—he blanched.—"The Four Gods, I forgot about Daisuke!"

Takeru figured this would've been an appropriate time to facepalm or awkwardly chuckle if it hadn't been for the possibility Elecmon's _Sparkling Thunder_ had harmed his colleague, the fact there never had been direct contact notwithstanding. The Chosen Child slowly rose, his watchful eyes ogling the Digimon of Miracles sprinting to his human half. The worry on his muzzle ostensible. "DAISUKE!"

The poor teen didn't have any clothing to insulate his upper body.

"DAISUKEEEE!"

Takaishi shook his head. "Man, I hope he's okay." As he sauntered towards the two, he rubbed his side. Still sore from Patamon's _second _unexpected attack for the day, not to mention it hurt like a _bitch_.

"Obviously," Kumamon's passing remark reached his ears. "That human _isn't_ the only one who needs training." A scowl of apparent disdain seemed to have been glued to his furry muzzle. A brief peek revealed a pair of eyes trained on both Veemon and Elecmon.

The black bear had not moved once. Not an inch. Like he had been in full control of his emotions and expected everything to play out as it should. Like he had known Veemon and Patamon were somehow, one way or another, assuring their partners' safety from Elecmon's ambush. Takeru conjectured he was being some sort of policeman. A peacemaker who'd intervene only when it was truly and utterly necessary, and would do so in a heartbeat. Without suffering the pangs of diffidence.

Then it dawned on him.

He was Leomon.

If memory served the Chosen Child well, that would completely explain why Kumamon acted so tough, and a bit apathetic towards the melodrama Elecmon fortunately interrupted. Amazing how the lion had finally been reborn and presently in the process of regaining his Adult form.

_Wait until Taichi hears about this_, the Child of Hope mused, the thought brining a smile to his lips. Vaguely, he remembered the role Leomon played in the past, assisting the First Generation. Nostalgia knocked on the doors of his heart. After all, it had been six years…

Takeru swallowed the desire to catch up with Kumamon. This was not the perfect time to do that. Safe and sound as they were, that didn't discount the fact Daisuke was kneeling on the grass, his form still, startled into lasting stupor by the crack of lightning and the searing heat of the bolt radiating on his face, tingling the tips of his fine hair.

"Daisuke," Veemon had been shaking the teen, hands on his partner's arms. Firm and strong. "You okay?"

"Ugghhhh…"

"C'mon, bro, speak to me."

"Shiiittt, my **head**. What just happened?" Slowly opening his eyes, he blinked. Several times. Dazed, "Whoa, so many spots. I can barely see a thing!"

Veemon bit his own lip, at a loss for words. Was there any way to break the news to Daisuke, how he had been nearly electrocuted _agonizingly_ by a digimon babysitter of all people, despite having three other digimon practically next to him. It reflected badly on Veemon's ability to protect his human half, to fulfill the highest obligation borne by every digimon partner.

Takeru didn't know how the Digmon of Miracles intended on explaining things, but the best he came up with was something that came naturally to the dragon. "Lightning," Veemon muttered, just loud enough for Takaishi to hear. "You almost got hit by lightning."

Blunt and straight to the point. Beating around the proverbial bush.

Daisuke blinked again. "Wha—how?"

"Elecmon freaked out when you and Takeru wouldn't quit, soooo—

The dragon fell silent when a soft _bop_ interrupted him, as Daisuke tapped his forehead with a light punch. "You _dummy_. Where were you? Why weren't **you** backing me up?"

Another difficult question. A thorny position to find himself in. Takeru Takaishi detected the many implications of this one query, the least of all being Veemon's personal feelings concerning this irrelevant conflict and inscrutable drama.

Veemon jolted back a bit. A shamefaced dawdle accompanied his reply. "Uhm, errr, that's becaauuussseeee—

"Aren't we partners?"

He sighed. "Daisuke…"

"Brothers?"

Veemon's gaze softened. His ears drooped as his tail went flaccid. "I thought," he stammered. "I-I… I thought Takeru and Patamon would get, would somehow get through to you."

"Why?" Daisuke croaked. "Just whose side are you on?" Weak as the Chosen Child's intonations were, there could be no denying the rising anger, the shock of betrayal, bubbling within. "I've told you so many, many times that damned Takeru **stole** Hikari from—MMPPPHHH!

Veemon licked his face slowly, cutting off the rant. As the dragon anticipated, Daisuke recoiled instantly. He turned his face away. "Yeeeccchhh!" The Chosen did it again a second time, compelling the man to try pushing his snout away. "Damn it, you **know **I absolutely _hate it _when you—_Argh!_"

Daisuke was easily overpowered when Veemon nuzzled his cheek. The teenager wretched the moment the digimon got a third one in. "Veemon, keep that slimy thing away from my nos—_crap_!"

The fourth stroke brought the Child of Miracles into coughing fit. Overwhelmed by a sickening, stench reminiscent of spoiled mayonnaise. He shoved the blue dragon a couple feet back, clawing at his nose and face, his lips grimacing every time his fingers touched something goopy. "Eeeeeyuck! What's gotten into—

A frustrated snort stopped him. "I keep reminding you, Daisuke," Veemon articulated. "You still have me." The tone of his child-like voice embodied a weary ennui not unlike the tart, disgruntled air surrounding those who observed their loved ones take their blessings for granted. Their interventions ineffective. Their frustration evident in the fact they could do nothing but stand beside them and provide support.

Takeru Takaishi saw a digimon who wanted to help his partner in any way possible, no matter how long it took. "You'll _always_ have me," the blue dragon uttered almost inaudibly as he moved his muzzle nearer. Because Daisuke was kneeling, he and his digital half were eye to eye. "You're my partner. No one's ever stealing **me** away."

If Daisuke Motomiya had been especially dour and revolted after his partner's rude interruptions and a show of affection he found noisome beyond measure, either he felt the rare tact not to show it or the gesture expunged it, Daisuke's repugnance notwithstanding. It took a few seconds before he found his words, swallowing whatever impulse to yell and chastise the blue dragon to let a counterattack take its place. "Still," he gathered, "that, that doesn't mean they're my—

The Child of Miracles coughed, gagging once or twice from the lingering scent. "T, they're my friends."

A weak counterattack, from his colleague's point of view.

Yet Veemon crumpled at the reply. His expectant gaze faltered. His muzzle dropped open from the shock. Possibly, the Chosen failed to consider the magnitude of the human's stubbornness, and now he was paying the price for his attempt to address Daisuke's obduracy. Never had Takeru seen someone else's digimon partner look so **hurt**.

It lasted for an instant. Quickly Veemon regained his composure. "Then—t, t, then nobody would've come here!" He rebutted. "Takeru's probably gonna be _Gods_ know where, and Hikari wouldn't be worried at all about you!"

"But this **isn't** what I want! It's _not_ fair. We've been classmates for years and—

"Think about what you have!"

"Veem—

"Just listen to me!Be happy with what you **already** have! You **won't** get everything you _want_. You know ourworlds don't work that way."

"But if I—if I can just **do** something—

"Do what? Something that'll make you look stupid?"

Daisuke had no reply. Veemon took point and went offensive. "I don't want _that_ for you! Not after what happened at the Gazimon village two years ago!"

This was starting to get intense. Takeru finally decided to chip in. "Listen to your partner," he said. He was tired of Motomiya's enduring immaturity. If anything, **he** should be happy. Daisuke was a promising athlete, a young man of decent popularity, surrounded by friends and a family he'd call normal and cheery. To throw all those away for a mere childhood crush, for a wounded ego precipitated by a fight he survived without so much as a gash across the chest made no sense at all. Not to Takeru. Not to **anyone** who had the mind to detach away from oneself and view cases like this with an open, unbiased mind. "That's what I've been trying so hard to tell you. It's _not_ the end of your world!"

Takeru didn't realize he'd been towering over Daisuke and Veemon until he leaned forward to offer a hand, in hopes his colleague would make the mature decision—take that first step to growing up for real. Not to deny the life-changing experiences of their "Digimon Adventure", but to understand that having the courage to lead friends through danger and save the world was a starkly different animal from developing emotional maturity and a tight grasp over what's important, what he can't afford losing no matter what.

"You've got Veemon," he began. "You've got Jun and **both** your parents. My relationship with Hikari doesn't change _anything_—we'll stand right behind you, just like Ken, Iori, Miyako, their partners, and everyone else."

The adolescent stayed silent. His hair fluttered in the breeze, the slight movement imperceptible owing to the wild spread caused by the ionized air and the atmospheric electricity generated by Elecmon's attack, weak as it was. He simply had nothing to say, and gloom was beginning to settle on Daisuke's countenance. It descended on him, at the same time the weight of Veemon's words and Takeru's complementing support fell on his two shoulders. Seeped into understanding.

What Takaishi saw was not acceptance. What he glimpsed was not genuine recognition of the truth. There was only disillusion in the teenager's russet orbs. An implacable disillusion that demolished the beliefs he held all this time, however mistaken or immature they were.

Catharsis left Daisuke Motomiya speechless and at a loss with himself and his partner.

"Always count your blessings," Takeru continued to assuage. "Whatever happens to you, focus on what you still have and keep them close. Protect them no matter the cost, because they're the **only** things you'll have when shit happens."

The Child of Hope didn't know this at the time, but such advice proved prescient in the years to follow. Predictive, when forces beyond the Chosen Children's control leaped into the event horizon and contorted into long-lasting tragedies destined to destabilize the Golden Age forming under their guidance.

In another time, in another story—one that had yet to unfold—Daisuke Motomiya looked back at this moment and concluded this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, that today contained the single most important lesson he had ever learned in the life after his adventure. Countless times he invoked Takeru's words and the wisdom therein, his subject narrowing little by little, until he only had his family and his loved ones in the forefront of his mind.

Such words reached Hikari Yagami in her darkest hour, when the Chosen Children—and most of all, Takeru—weren't around to be her unmoving rock. They would compel her to act, to shed a helplessness conditioned into her spirit by the apathy and self-interest pervading modern society.

For now, this was not that future. For now, that future remained hidden behind the veil of the present, of the innumerable conflicting signs any seasoned forecaster would find baffling.

For now, the future ahead was but a road under construction. A work in progress. A destiny through which the Chosen Children could all band together and act as one coherent unit, spearheading the Earth and the Digital World through a utopian society of coexistence.

For now, all Takeru Takaishi cared about was rekindling his and Hikari's friendship with Daisuke. Truly, the fault never lied with either of them, yet Takeru shouldered the blame regardless. Somewhere in the back of his mind, as he bore witness to one of the most immature moments Daisuke may have had in his life, the Chosen Child felt streaks of indignant outrage coming to him.

Wasn't Daisuke the one to reject both of them? Wasn't Daisuke the one who somehow _relapsed_ from whatever growth he may have seemed to have, and decided to write two close friends off his life? Shouldn't _he_ be the one kowtowing to Takari and Hikari, obsequious, knowing he acted too rashly, too stubbornly, too _arrogant_ to think he had some say in the freedom and independence of other people?

Takeru never entertained such thoughts. Blame and culpability were unimportant. Friendship mattered, above all. He watched Daisuke's attempt to stand up collapse by the lack of strength in his toned, well-developed legs. His colleague's amazing posture had been reduced to a shivering mess—his muscles turned into jelly by, no doubt, the proximity and intensity of Elecmon's thunderbolt. _Thankfully he's a Child-level!_

Veemon was right on top of his surrogate brother's predicament. Daisuke buckled again on his second try, but his partner was there to stop his descent and, with a hand to his back, assist the man's recovery. Takeru was unable to relate with Daisuke's agonizing struggle, for the image that incessantly appeared in his head was that of a barrel full of matches and Mr. Bean in his birthday suit, lighting a nearby fuse on fire. An inappropriate and an insufficient analogy, to be sure.

Veemon and Takeru locked eyes with one another then. Crimson and ultramarine. Some weird form of understanding traveled between them. It was almost telepathic; the Child of Hope could've sworn the blue dragon nodded at him. He took this as a cue to inch closer. Takeru extended his hand until it was borderline intrusive. "So you with me?" he offered. "Are we cool now?"

By now Patamon had followed through with a quick recovery, fluttering his bat wings and hovering beside the three of them. Veemon's scarlet gaze panned to his human half, his eyes as expectant as the flying hamster's. They all waited for Daisuke to make his choice, patiently, giving him the time to deliberate and appraise once and for all the—

The Child of Miracles made his decision. Without giving the tendered palm the briefest of glimpses, Daisuke's arms moved automatically to Veemon's shoulders and free hand. With one of their hands clasped together tight, the sight of Veemon's growing smile signaled Daisuke felt, at the very least, grateful for having the dragon digimon in his life.

As he hoisted himself up, the Chosen Child disregarded the help Takaishi presented as a figurative fig leaf. Still, it did not escape his notice, and he was no longer interested in stonewalling Hikari's significant other for caring about him. Otherwise, he might have brushed away the hand at once. A reasonable expectation in lieu of the heated argument minutes earlier.

"I'm sorry," Daisuke muttered, leaning back into his digital half's support. "It's—it's that, i-it's just, I don't know." His voice no different from the uncertainty plaguing his awkward posture. "Mmmmaybe."

Although all the man possessed was recognition, Takeru Takaishi was happy. Acceptance, no matter how begrudging, no matter how welcomed, was the proverbial first step.

Motomiya sighed. "Just—please, give me a little time to think."

Takaishi concealed the disappointment he felt from Daisuke's rejection. He hoped none of the digimon sensed it. They had an _amazing_ ability to detect emotions. "Right." Daisuke wasn't ready yet, but the fact he was done with anger was a good sign. "Right, you got it."

"But you're right. Veemon **and **you."

A smile. "That's good to know." At last things were looking up. There was hope for his and Hikari's relationship with Daisuke after all. "Now that we're done with that, I guess this means we can finally go home."

Veemon's sigh preceded his deflating stance. Disappointed, he was. "Haaaaaaayyyy, no more training for today then." Training his eyes on the teen leaning on his shoulder, "Not for a couple days."

"Well, that's _one_ consolation," Daisuke wore a small grin at the sound of that. "No workout of doom 'til Tuesday."

Patamon had a grin himself, but not for the same reason Daisuke did. "You two wouldn't mind if I stay at your place for the night?"

Takeru cocked his eyebrow. "Why?"

"Veemon still owes me a _Super Robot Wars _playthrough." Mischief began to sparkle in the hamster's turquoise eyes. "And I'm still ruffled by that idiot neighbor of his."

"**Really**, Patamon?"

"Ta, keruuuuuuu!" he moaned. "**C'mon**! He didn't call **you** a batpig!"

"Let it go. You can't blame Mr. Himura for that. He's an _adult_. Grown-ups in _general_ aren't really welcoming of new things like this." _Like you_, he hoped to articulate without stepping on his partner's feelings. Besides, the Chosen Child himself didn't have the heart to reject his request for the sole reason he thought Daisuke Motomiya was a "bad influence" to everyone around him.

This, despite the fact he _was_ a pretty good kid deep down.

"Did you just say Mr. Himura?" Veemon chimed in the instant his ears caught the name. "Wakana Himura? He's at home?"

"Waiting for Daisuke's dad," stated Patamon. Huffing indignantly, "I bet he's still slaving over his laptop like a wannabe Koushirou!"

"Ooooooooooohh, now I can't _wait_ to get home!" Takeru shuddered at the sight of the smirk forming on Veemon's muzzle. It was an expression that made his excitement apparent. Thrill twinkled in those pair of scarlet eyes. "Whenever Wacko's like that, he **zones** out. Just _perfect _for pranking, and I _promise_, it surprises him every time!"

Delight shuddered through Veemon, causing his body to shake. Whatever mischief he was concocting in that thick head of his must be so impish it simply couldn't wait. Patamon's riveted eyes sparkled.

"No way!"

"**Yes** way!"

"I want in, I want in!"

"Because of the whole batpig thing, huh?" Veemon giggled.

Admonishing, "Awwww, that's _not_ funny."

"Pfft—I, I wasn't laughing at _you_."

"Then…?"

Daisuke Motomiya snuck his word in. "The first time he saw Chibimon running around our unit…"

Veemon finished for him. "He called me a 'dumb, overgrown lizard'."

Patamon nodded.

"Should've seen the scene he made after I had my way with 'im. He thought I was gonna bite his nose off!"

"Details." A few flaps of his wings and Patamon settled right on top of Veemon's head. "Details!"

The blue dragon didn't mind at all. He hummed, pondering on the best way to begin. "Well, this all started when he showed up at our door just after we took down BelialVamdemon…"

"Can we do this storytelling at **home**?" Daisuke whined. "I feel like cooking up some ramen."

Veemon was horrified. "Ramen **again**? You've been at it for the past two weeks already! I'm starting to get sick of every time you come along with your 'perfect recipe'. And Jun's—

"Well _sorry _if I'm trying way too hard preparing for my future business!"

"But your varsity—

"I can't put all my eggs in one basket." (Patamon looked around. "Eggs? WHERE? Where's the basket?")

"…uhm… b-but, eh, your dad—

"I **don't** want to flip houses for a living!" (Patamon was puzzled. "Why would _anyone _want an upside-down house?")

"Eh, you don't have any of that stuff you humans exchange goodies with."

"I've talked to Wakana about my idea and he said he'll lend me an ear." (Patamon gasped in surprise. "So humans _can_ detach their ears!")

Takaishi's palm met his face for every innocent statement coming out of his partner's mouth. Luckily the two Chosen of Miracles were too engrossed to pay attention and call him out for it. Takeru sighed. Maybe tonight was a good time to teach the orange hamster some basic figures of speech. Maybe tonight was just as good a time to ask him how he never picked up on these in the first place, considering the months he's lived together with the blond.

His gaze then fell on Kumamon and Elecmon. The black bear was helping up the Primary Village's caretaker. Elecmon himself faced some difficulty hoisting his body into position. Whatever Veemon did to him in response to the threat was strong enough to last for a night or two. At the very least, his state testified to the Chosen's care for his human partner and the unorthodox decision he made to facilitate resolution of an internal turmoil.

"Elecmon," Takeru called over. He shot a glance back at the three Chosen shrinking behind him, making sure they weren't walking too fast. (Like _that_'s happening, with Daisuke slowing both digimon down.) "You okay?"

"I've had worse," mumbled the digimon.

Takeru stared.

"Don't worry," the assurance came seconds later. "This won't affect my job at all." He looked at the Child-level next to him. "Besides, I got another pair of hands available, just in case."

Kumamon shook his head. "Sorry, but I've got some pull-ups to do at the monkey bars."

"It can wait," Elecmon countered. "File Island won't need Leomon anytime soon! So there's no rush. Take your time." He smirked. "And help me out here."

"I… you don't know when—we don't know how long before something happens aga—

"Ehem!"

Both Elecmon and Kumamon trained their eyes on Takeru. "I'm siding with Elecmon on this one." He pronounced, "It's the _Real World_ that's having problems right now, but we've got it covered. All twelve of us."

A brief reflection was spent on the unknowns still lingering from his second adventure. Demon and the lord of the Dark Ocean haunted Takeru Takaishi, at least whenever he was beginning to relax, whenever he was lulled into the calming serenity of peace. That belief that said the worst was over, that all the villains were now dead and buried, never to disturb the two worlds again.

Yes, they were still out there. They were probably scheming; the Dark Ocean wouldn't keep either one at bay for so long, but when? When were they going to strike? The question of **how** was also legitimate—for all he knew, they might have learned a few tricks from Gennai and the Harmonious Ones and employ humans of their own.

They were living on borrowed time. Having fun on borrowed time.

Yet…

There was **nothing wrong** with that.

So long as they fulfilled their responsibilities by the end of the day. "And besides, a few days, or even a week, won't make that much of a difference." He flashed a smile, filling it with the hope he had carried over from his childhood. "Trust me, when things start happening, we **will** be ready."

Kumamon grumbled. "Krkkk, _fine_. I suppose a week off won't hurt."

A smile was starting to form on Elecmon's muzzle, but Kumamon was quick to lop it off long before it bloomed. "But **you're** training with me when I resume my workouts."

"W-what? I'm a **babysitter**. I don't even _want_ to evolve! I just—

"After the way you freaked out earlier," carped the bear, "You need a few lessons in self-restraint and perception."

"Kuma—

"No **buts**, Elecmon." The Guardian frowned.

Elecmon gulped. Loud enough for Takeru to hear, his distant position notwithstanding. "O, okay. You've got a deal—at least I'm getting help from you."

"By the way, Chosen Child." Kumamon verbalized, suddenly addressing Takeru. He raised his hand and pointed at something behind the human. Takeru's eyes were slow to follow, for they were fixated by the finger poking out of layers and layers of leather belts wrapped around the furry hand. "You should go. They're **all** leaving you behind."

"Huh?" Takeru oscillated. His eyes dilated at the shapes of Daisuke, Veemon, and Patamon, shrinking into the city of toys. Daisuke was leaning on Veemon's arm for support. No longer were they talking—arguing. Maybe they worked it out somehow. Maybe they kicked the can down the road, intending to take it up at a better time. Patamon, on the other hand, was perched right on Veemon's head, his wings flapping weakly—a telltale sign the Digimon of Hope was actively flapping his mouth, talking and talking.

Both he and the blue dragon were being chatterboxes. Animated and lively. The Child of Miracles, in contrast, carried a haggard air around him. Cleary he needed help from someone his own size.

Veemon was either too busy discussing some act of mischief, or he took his human partner's stubbornness and obstinate reassurances at face value—quirks he had long been known for. Such gullibility and forgiving attitude were scary. Those things eventually brought trouble. No doubts there.

At the moment, that was the farthest thing from Takeru's mind. "Oh crap!" The Child of Hope sprinted, leaving Elecmon and Kumamon alone. "Guys, wait up! Hey! Time out for—Agh, JUST WAIT FOR ME!" Didn't they realize there was a _fourth_ person in their group? Or were they all too caught up in themselves to notice the missing teenager? "**PATAMON**!"

When he caught up to the three, Takeru Takaishi was burdened by heavy breaths. He was panting. Was palpitating. Was feeling drops of perspiration trickling down the sides of his blond head. Running a hundred meters at full speed without stopping or tripping on his own feet was an ordeal Takeru wouldn't want to repeat anytime soon. "Maaaaaannn, why didn't you stop and wait? Didn't anyone hear me?"

Patamon and Veemon gave each other guilty looks. "Uuuhhhhhhhh…"

The latter chuckled. "We, w-we, we weren't paying attention?"

The former bowed, apologetic. "Sorry, we were talking."

Takeru facepalmed once more. How can Daisuke—no, his _entire family_ live with a digimon as childish as Veemon?

"My parents..." Not until Daisuke replied did the Child of Hope realize he'd been thinking aloud. "I don't know exactly what he is to them but they, they don't really go out of their way to get to know him." A pensive expression danced along. "Maybe it's an adult thing. Or maybe they're too busy working. As for Jun, it's taken a while but she loves the little guy." He snorted. "Hehe, must be the _cute_ thing he's got going."

Takeru accosted, "What were they talking about anyway?"

"Plans (Schemes) to annoy (piss off) Wakana tonight," Veemon (and his human half) replied.

Groaning, "Patamon, I told you, I'm not letting you sleep over."

The Digimon of Hope's expression was pitiful. "Awwwww! Please, Takeru, just one night. Puh-leeaaaasseeee?" Those eyes were mesmerizing. They tempted the teenager to let it slide just this once.

Takeru held his ground. "No."

"But there's something I need Veemon to help me with!"

Veemon rubbed the hamster's head. "Ehhhh, don't worry, Patamon, we can talk about Tailmon on Monday when we all meet up at school."

Takeru caught Veemon's flippancy. He watched Daisuke flinch from the lightness. Immediately he understood the reasons behind it, considering his… lasting unrequited infatuation.

The dense dragon didn't see a thing, of course. Motomiya's biceps quivered from subsequent attempts to break away from Veemon. From his perspective, the Digimon of Miracles thought his human half was dead set on defying the impossible, on rebelling against the exhaustion and pain embedded in his body. A futile struggle of the spirit against the overwhelming weakness of the flesh. At least, Takeru thought so.

"Hey," the Child-level murmured as soon as he felt the energy from Daisuke's hands. "Don't strain yourself. We're almost there." A blue finger was thrust towards a high slope. One obviously associated with the rubber hills dotting the Primary Village landscape.

Patamon jumped on Veemon's head. "Yeah! We'll be home soon and you can crash on your bed!"

"It's okay." Veemon's partner ground his teeth. "I can do this. I think I've had enough rest." Letting caution and wariness guide his movements, Daisuke gradually brought himself out of the dragon's arms. "Okay, I got this…"

A little more now and he would be standing on his own feet.

"…I, definitely, got this."

Success!

"Alright," Daisuke praised himself. "Coming up next."

Taking a few steps forw—the teenager fell backwards, his legs no stronger than it had been minutes ago. "SHIT!" If he wasn't stopped soon, Daisuke faced the unpleasant prospect of rolling down the hill. **Backwards**. The descent wouldn't have hurt him too much—it was as soft as a mattress, and ridiculously bouncy. Like a trampoline of trampolines. Patamon had demonstrated this as soon as he arrived, so there was absolutely no reason to worry.

Still, the inconvenience was no less terrible to Motomiya.

Veemon was not in the optimal position to catch his human half, for he'd been standing a little ways to the side. He tried anyway, reaching for Daisuke. His muzzle was shut, set in an impassive state. Yet within those scarlet eyes shone a commitment to prevent anything harmful from victimizing his surrogate brother—the mere fact inconvenience was petty and insignificant was a nonissue—and the desire to see it through to the bitter end.

A need Takeru denied him. "Got you!"

None of it was his fault. None of it was malicious in any manner. Withal, the Chosen Child had been standing right behind Daisuke when it happened.

His colleague stiffened at the sound of his voice. Twitched when he felt the weight of two hands cradling his back. The gesture was well-intentioned and much needed. Surely Daisuke was able to discern this. Even a blind man could. Even so, the teenager cringed. "T, Takeru." His eyes were drilling down at the pair of hands keeping him steady. "Let go," came a request.

"But—

A request became a demand. "I said '_let go'_, damn it!"

"You can't stand—

Motomiya shrugged the Child of Hope away. "Don't bother." Coldly. "I'll get through this on my own." Miraculously he managed to step forward without keeling over like a sinking ship, although it had no effect on the acrimony still simmering within.

Daisuke's obstinacy reminded Takeru of a bathtub, filled to the brim with water. To believe pulling the plug at the bottom would drain the liquid in the seconds that pass was not that far from madness. The water would not disappear after a moment. It would loiter, hanging around until the mixture, the miasma of fluids no longer had the ability to stay aloft—resist the forces of nature.

The Child of Miracles collapsed after the tenth step. Roughly thirty paces from this hill's apex. He dropped and took a seat on the soft grass and its vivacious surface. "I need some rest." The words placated his digital half's urge to go to him, dispensed while staring at the afternoon sky above. Eventually he reclined, laid himself down. A deliberate choice—he didn't want to gaze at either Veemon's or Takeru's eyes. Not now. Not until the negatives were no longer in the frontier of his psyche.

Veemon approached Takeru. Patamon flew up from the dragon's rear, settling down on Takeru's Gilligan hat. The blue tail wagging, "You know, if you join Daisuke in training, I bet his reflexes and endurance will improve." He smiled at him, the glinting of his visible canines almost announcing his thoughts like a large sign, painted in red. "What'd you think?"

"Uhhhh, I…"

Veemon was **pumped**, his eyes shimmering happily at the idea of having another human—and Patamon, of course—join their physical training. "And **you're **helping yourself here! You'll learn to fight smaller and _faster _enemies like Patamon and me, and you build your body up, and best of all, we get to spend _more_ time with each other. Oh! A-and, and when Kumamon evolves, we'll start using swords and be so _awesome_ at it we—

The buoyancy and enthusiasm infused in the blue dragon's bubbly chatter was incredibly overwhelming. It was also pressing. Pressing to the extent Takeru froze once nervousness seized him and evoked a growing diffidence at the thought of popping Veemon's bubble.

Much to the Chosen Child's relief, Patamon blurted out the dragon's name, interrupting his sales pitch and reeling the marketer's attention. "There's something I was wondering about," said the hamster, overlooking the huge sigh being released below him.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"What?"

"I didn't know you like _Pokémon_."

Veemon's confused expression suddenly burst into a wide grin. "Saw my shirt, didn't you?" Not giving Takeru's digital half a moment to reply, "That's Latias, by the way. She's my favorite!"

"I'm surprised **you** actually like the series," marveled Takeru.

"Why shouldn't I? It's funny, full of imagination, has great games for the Nintendo, and _plus_ the card game looks so fun I **wish** I can join Daisuke's classmates every time they play during recess!"

Rivulets of sweat slid down Takeru's cheek. "Tailmon and Agumon think it's not sending the right signal to people," Hope's representative wanted to say. That the series did not actively promote equality to children and young adolescents in a world where men and monsters were learning to coexist with one another. That the monsters fought each other in tournaments for the sake of sport, of entertainment, of mere competition as opposed to the defense and betterment of society, to the pursuit of some lofty ideal or future. That _Pokémon_ was decades ahead of its time, an animated medium perhaps more appropriate for public viewing at a time when Man and Digimon live in perfect harmony.

As luck would have it, his digital half decided differently, choosing to interrupt his own partner in the middle of his sentence. "Your shirt's all ruined by the way," Patamon noted, not listening to the conversation between the two.

"Huh? What do you—

As soon as he glanced down, Veemon's jaw dropped out of pure shock, almost as if it took him **this** long to notice the shirt's burned and dilapidated condition. "EEEHHHHHHH?" Veemon tugged it forward. An audible _rrrriiiipppp_ followed despite his caution, reminding Takeru of a pair of pants splitting along the middle. Like a human embarrassed by an unannounced, public display of his underwear, the jarring sound caused Veemon to wince. "OH NOES!"

The Digimon of Miracles collapsed on his knees. "ARRRGGGHHH, MY LATIAS SHIRT!" He pounded the soft, trampoline hills, lamenting. "NOOOOOOO!" Takeru's imagination conjured a purple cloud of depression descending over the blue dragon. "And on the day I **finally** decided to wear this!"

"What's the big deal?" Patamon questioned, his apathy revealed in a most unexpressive frown. "It's just a shirt. Go get another one in Akihabara—

He snapped, "Like Daisuke'll do that! He doesn't like the series!"

"Then why did he—

Daisuke cracked open an eye, ogling the three of them. "After watching that stupid movie he started licking my face every night. Kept me awake 'til I gagged. Won't stop until I bribed him with that shirt."

"What he said!" Veemon clamored." It's the **only** one I own and if I don't get it fixed I'll—wait a sec."

The childish voice trailed off. Veemon's lips went numb for a few seconds, and silence governed over the four until the moment an epiphany literally lifted the blue dragon off his feat. "ELECMON! It's all **his **fault!" He trotted down, scowling. Teeth bared. "I don't know how he'll fix it, but I swear on the Four Gods he **will**."

Takeru exclaimed. "Wait! What about Daisuke?"

One brief glance was all the Chosen ever needed. "He'll be fine! I'm **so** not leaving until I get this fixed!"

Veemon left. He was gone, reduced into nothing but a blue silhouette in the foreground veering straight for the forest encompassing Primary Village. The ocher fur of Elecmon stood out in the distant emerald and olive green of their surroundings. Seconds later the digimon jerked from panic and dashed away, taking another route to the Primary Village with Veemon hot behind every one of his nine tails.

Takeru groaned. He eyed his colleague relaxing in the sun. "Charging recklessly into the fray," Takaishi passed. "You two are so alike you're **made **for each other."

Daisuke grinned. "Makes me proud calling him my little bro."

"Shouldn't you…

"Nah. It'll all work out in the end. Veemon _will_ be back eventually, so **that** leaves me with _plenty_ of time to chill. Maybe do some thinking." A pair of russet eyes regarded Takaishi. A hint of contempt remained in there. Also a pinch of jealousy. "About things that's **long**overdue, since you're here."

A touch of denial.

"But Daisuke—

"'But', _nothing_," Motomiya cut him off. "Pissoff, Takeru. It doesn't matter what **you** think." Daisuke's voice was dismissive. Hostile, but thankfully not as much as it had been earlier, when they first saw each other. "Leave us alone. That's how Veemon and I roll; if you've got a problem with the way **our**relationship works, I don't really care." Verbalized like an irate prick.

Another sigh from the blond. "**Fine**, I'll leave. It's clear I'm not wanted," Takeru muttered. "Right now at least."

No comment.

"For all it's worth, Daisuke, I _hope_ we can still be friends. All three of us."

Again, no response.

Takaishi shook his head. "Goodbye."

He resumed the slow ascent, picking up the pace. Every beat of his heart thrummed with disappointment and sadness. As much as Takeru couldn't refute the significant progress made with Daisuke Motomiya, it still **hurt** to leave the scene without truly resolving the predicament at hand. All he did was sow the seeds. Plant the idea. Encourage the man to nurture it through self-reflection.

This utter lack of accomplishment, this _failure_ to turn things around as though the endeavor was dead set on generating this miracle between friends, dragged the teen down. How sad it was, for Daisuke to remain unchanged after the great Digimon Adventure.

The brunet's voice floated from twenty feet below. "Takeru, can you still hear me?" It was a bit of a shout. Loud enough to catch attention and pull him away from his thoughts. Involved enough for the teenager to detect something different in the syllables' cadence.

Takaishi stopped. He stared back at Veemon's surrogate brother lying on the hill. Despite the increased distance between them he knew for a fact he and Motomiya had made direct eye contact. It held for a few seconds—seconds that felt like a minute, for Daisuke took his sweet time responding to the Child of Hope's disrupted movement—his relaxed posture.

Either that, or the breeze flowing through the air dampened the volume somewhat.

Moments before Takeru's patience wore thin, before he decided to return to the Real World, back to Apartment 825, Daisuke's mouth moved. From this position, the only thing that reached his ears was a quiet murmur. He strained to hear. "Ha?" Takeru asked, cupping his ear.

"Give Hikari my thanks," the Child of Miracles verbalized, just a little louder. "For worrying about me." The instruction elicited a small smile from Takeru.

Whatever tenderness the moment had was shoved aside when Patamon raised his voice. Smug. "Aaaaannnd?"

Seeing how his colleague quivered—squirmed from the hamster's tone left Takeru with the feeling Daisuke had just sighed, preparing himself to articulate words he'd rather not—

The reply arrived sooner than he expected. "Same for you, Takeru, for dropping by today." Good thing the breeze grew weaker, as though the invisible force was sentient. "And setting me straight," he mumbled almost too softly.

"You're welcome."

"Hehe." A lighthearted chuckle. "Now **that's** more like it! Don't forget to apologize to Veemon."—Daisuke flinched—"He needs—

"Patamon!"

"What?" His digital half slipped in from above. Bright eyes, awash in something sheepish, gazed into Takeru's own. "I made sure he didn't forget both of you, too," Patamon whispered, slightly embarrassed.

"I know, I know." Takeru ran his hand across the digimon's fur, causing Patamon to laugh from the tickling sensation.

He then glanced back at the younger Motomiya enjoying his tranquility, his bare back on the grass and unclothed abdomen facing the cool, soft wafts of air traversing this section of Primary Village. Takeru only had to take a few more steps before his D3 was within range of the Digiport.

If Takeru hadn't chosen this time to fumble around his pockets for his digivice, by now he'd probably be back in the Motomiya home, updating Jun on her brother's status. Perhaps he'd have placed a call to the Yagami household; report to his girlfriend about the strange events of the day.

Conscious thoughts about the digivice led Takeru to turn back, compelled him to saunter down, back to a spot he figured Daisuke could hear him from. "Daisuke?"

Provided he was still awake. "Hey, Daisuke!"

Three seconds. "Daisuke!"

Another four seconds. "Hey, wake up!"

The Chosen Child woke up with a start, his brunet head swiveling from one direction to another. "Wha, what?"

"Up here."

Straining his head, "T-Takeru? Why are you still here? Weren't you—

"I forgot to ask you something."

"Oh. Okay. Shoot."

Takeru raised the green-marked machine in his hands. "What happened to your digivice?" Intoning worriedly, "When I first came here, for some reason I couldn't get **my **D3 to track its signal and—

"Hold up," Daisuke lifted his hand, palm facing the blond teenager. "Nothing's 'happened 'to my D3."

"Then…"

"Elecmon's intercepting the signal. He's got the tiny thing **buried **in those nine tails of his and—oh no."

"Oh no, what?"

"I forgot to tell Veemon to get my D3 back!"

Daisuke Motomiya catapulted himself from his relaxed, carefree position. He stood erect, and for once, he shivered a bit in the breeze. "Whhhhooooo. It's getting a little colder here."

Takeru facepalmed. "Why aren't you even wearing your shirt? And your jacket?"

"Because Veemon whines about my clothes '_feeling and smelling gross_' if I don't take it off."

Patamon giggled, as did the Chosen Child on whose head he sat on. "Shouldn't you be wearing _something _now that your training's don—HEY!"

The hamster shrieked, glimpsing Daisuke's sudden sprint down the hill. His legs were moving as fast as humanly possible. "Sorry, little _batpig_!" He apologized nonchalantly, as though the nickname came naturally from his mouth. "Your partner's absolutely right and I need to put my tops back on and—

A crimson shape broke away from the structures of Primary Village, dashing on all fours towards the forest. Towards the place Takeru first found Daisuke at. It was followed by a cerulean figure of similar size, charging forward on two feet.

"ELECMON! GIVE ME BACK MY DIGIVICE!"

"Call off your partner first! He's gone crazy!"

"VEEMON! Get your damn—

"NO! Not until he fixes my shirt!" Somehow he had gotten his hands on a small, leather pouch. Takeru figured it contained some sewing materials.

Daisuke mumbled some incoherent grouses before deciding to follow. " ELECMON!"

A rictus pasted on his face, Takeru Takaishi shut his eyes, almost blushing at the sight. First Veemon. Now, Daisuke. The two were truly made for each other, that much was certain. "Guess this means we can go now."

Patamon begged to disagree. "He said…"

"Uh, are you okay up there?"

He didn't seem to hear him. "He called me…"

Takeru groaned, realizing where this afternoon was going. "Hey…"

"He called me a _batpig_."

"Patamon."

"He called me a batpig!"

"If you leave me, you're spending the night with—

The orange hamster shot out from atop the Gilligan Hat, ears flapping widely and an intimidating grimace affixed to his snout. "DAISUKEEEE!"

Takeru Takaishi watched his digital half fly off. There was no getting through to him there. Not when someone dared to assign this nickname to him. Rooted to his spot on the hill, the Child of Hope watched his digimon counterpart follow Daisuke follow Veemon follow Elecmon. Amusement and mirth held the teenager in place.

Had Takeru been in the same mental state as he was five years ago, surely he would have joined the train of pursuers running around Primary Village. By now he probably would have followed them out of simple awareness of their responsibilities and commitments at large.

Hikari Yagami and a chance to kill some time with her after returning from the Motomiya unit overrode his amusement. Muted the desire to join this comical chain of serial followers.

Ultramarine eyes fell on the Digiport not too far away. Confusion settled on Takeru. Or, perhaps, was it indecision?

Should Takaishi wait here for a few more minutes, lie down on the grass, and bask in the serenity of a village made of toys and plastic? Or should he leave Patamon under Veemon's responsibility just for tonight?

The deliberation ended after two minutes.

"One night isn't going to hurt."

.

.

.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

.

.

Veemon had caught up to Elecmon after ten more minutes of running. The long duration testified to the endurance and strength possessed by the digital monsters. Time was not alone in its affirmation, since the nine-tailed babysitter slept that night with plenty of bruises and lumps across his body, courtesy of the Digimon of Miracles and his persistence. Veemon's efforts paid off in the end; his prized _Pok__é__mon_ shirt was repaired. Sewn back together. Although a little cleaner, the fabric was charred enough to dispossess its hold over the vibrance it had once had, before Elecmon fired that _Sparkling Thunder_ in Daisuke's direction.

Patamon had his first sleepover that night. Daisuke Motomiya thought this was annoying. Bothersome. It meant taking responsibility and the Chosen Child wasn't keen on committing to anything for someone he still didn't feel personally comfortable with. Patamon, nonetheless, had plenty of fun for the entire night: movies, gaming, and stuffing food in his face with Daisuke and Veemon beside him. The PlayStation 2 wasn't even the best part of the experience!

A quick prank involving Wakana Himura's laptop bag—unzipped and wide open for all the world to see, or for all digimon of the second Baby level to fiddle with—Chibimon, some sneaking on Patamon's part, and deliberate obstruction of the adult's eyes resulted in Chibimon dangling from one of the businessman's ears. Wakana had been screaming in his own unit, using Christ's name in vain, unable to swat Chibimon away out of fear of getting his ear torn off and eaten by a "dumb, overgrown lizard".

An hour later, Mr. Motomiya woke his son violently, pulling him off the bed for a harsh and fervent lecture on pets, on the digimon they adopted as such. He zoned in on the fact they must be kept under control if and when guests arrive. The teen himself, naturally, opened up both of his ears like a dam, like a one-way street, and let his dad's sermon flow into one side and out the other.

Some lexemes did not escape Daisuke's notice. His father's fuming oration revealed much of his parents' opinion on digimon. It reflected their view of Chibimon and the relationship they shared with him—or the astonishing lack thereof. This night was simply the first of many through the years following the Fourth of July incident in 2005. It underscored a structural conflict between Daisuke and his parents.

A microcosm of the dissonance between the idealism of the Chosen Children and, as the passage of time would unravel, the world at large.

Veemon's wish for Takeru's participation was granted one day. Following incessant prodding from the orange hamster, Takeru Takaishi eventually agreed to join Daisuke in training. Most of the sessions went the way the blue dragon expected it to. Soon, more of their friends found the concept intriguing and useful. What was once a private get-together between Takaishi, Motomiya, and their brothers transformed into a weekly ritual for the Twelve.

It lasted for a few more years until the Shinjuku March had put a stop to it.

The burdens Hikari carried for worrying over Daisuke's psychological state and their failed relationship with the Child of Miracles felt lighter after her significant other relayed his findings by phone.

Takeru felt a little lonely when his head hit the pillows that night. He was unused to the absence of an oversized, orange hamster cuddling his blond head, and for but a few scant seconds he felt a longing for his surrogate brother Patamon. In the end, the Child of Hope didn't regret a thing. As long as his partner was happy, then so was he.

.

* * *

**THE END.**

* * *

**Author's notes:**

[5] One major point of contention here, among my character betas, is how I went overboard by having Daisuke write off Takari for getting together, and then not doing anything about it over the course of a year. The thing is, I stand by my decision because it has real life basis. **Because this has personally happened to me**.

Now, I wasn't the guy who did the cutting-of-ties. I once had a friend who I've been great buddies with since my junior year in high school. We've gone through a lot over the next three to four years, and became inseparable friends, not to mention we were "bonded" by the fact two girls we were crushing on back then were good friends with one another.

Unfortunately, the girl he liked rejected him, and it was so bad that he refused to talk to her anymore. He had basically cut her and her friends off. I happened to be _collateral _damage, because I myself was a close friend of his crush. And so despite several years of friendship, I lost a good pal just because of pure circumstance. I didn't even have to do anything!

Now that years have passed and I have decided to write this story based on this experience, it dawned on me that this had been a lesson on how irrational people can become, and how sometimes people act in ways **you'd never expect them to **even after knowing them for a long time, and in a close friendship to begin with!

Even if you do disagree fervently over my decision, I will at least hope this story serves as a warning for your relationships with other people now and in the future, whether they are friendships or romantic relationships.

[6] Response to **Mordart**'s review:

Age isn't something you should invoke here. Although the events depicted here may take place in the canon of _The Interloper_, this is merely two years after the end of _Zero Two_, making Daisuke a **13-year old** at the oldest. (See the Digimon Wikia.) I won't fight back the remark how the whole premise with Daisuke is one-sided, because **it is**. Because I **deliberately ignored** the "sage-like maturity" he has displayed quite a few times during the second half of the source material.

I didn't delve into the roots behind Daisuke's repudiation of his relationships with "Takari", simply because I thought it wasn't needed - that **it wasn't important.** As fans, we know Daisuke had been infatuated with Hikari before during the Kaiser arc. We know a person's reactions to a crushed infatuation varies from one to another, and regrettably **we just don't know enough of Daisuke **to know if he would explode like a bomb and go completely OOC (again, ask Lord Pata about that because he's the only one I know who's obsessed with the love triangle), if he would coldly write the two off, if he would angst on it for a long, long time before moving on, or if he would shrug and let it go instantly like a boss.

Your search for Daisuke's side makes me wonder. Is deep-seated psychological basis necessary to justify people who reacted the worst to crushed infatuations, rejections, and as you call it, the "raw end of the Social Stick"? Why can't it just be, as implied by gravity of Daisuke's reaction and the nonexistence of any additional information, a matter of _failed expectations_ and _attempts to procrastinate_ the questions only he can find the answers to? Why can't Daisuke be, for the sole reason that it is _a given state_ rather than the result of an ongoing narrative of life, someone who would choose to isolate himself while he's still bitter until he learns to get over himself and his dislike over the situation?

Takeru's optimistic expectations were meant to reflect both his naivety and the fact he holds the Crest of Hope. As this was about a year since Daisuke's repudiation, understandably he and Hikari would have speculated on the "WHY" a long time ago. I will concede it is my fault as the writer for failing to include this in the narration somewhere.

Every writer projects pieces of themselves, their beliefs, and their own experiences into their characters, may it be fanfiction or an original work. **Nobody can truly escape from the subjective reality of the self.** Yes, what I was going for here wasn't "how the characters would think and react". What I aimed for was how the brokenhearted character would react such that it reflects reality. I thought my experiences with my lost friend was a suitable proxy, as I felt the loser of a love triangle would feel the desire to be alone and vent out the disappointment and rage and sadness for a few months, maybe a year at most, before moving on in life.

_The tl;dr version:_

We don't know enough of Daisuke's personal life, values, and social skills to fully grasp how he'd react to Takari. We know he gives others a second chance when they deserve to have it (i.e. Ken), but this by no means implies he can deal with a truly, socially awkward position without succumbing to hormone-driven impulses that literally anyone, even Daisuke himself, can see is wrong to begin with after giving them some thought.

My decision stems from both a desire to bring Daisuke towards that "sage-like" state in the ending of the anime without magically skipping the conflicts and moments of self-reflection necessary to produce it; and to select a reaction that can be reasonably expected from someone of Daisuke's personality type in real life. I've personally seen more pitiful reactions than write-offs (I myself have had a very bad one), so I thought the little spat between myself and my lost friend made an adequate proxy.

You're free to give up "The Interloper" if you want. I'm not stopping you. It's only disappointing because you chose to do so on the basis of how I had Daisuke react to the pairings, when you are missing the fact your reaction clearly reveals my lack of talent in writing drama (this is my second attempt after all) and encourages me to focus **less** on the minefield that is social relationships and **more** on the storyline at large.


End file.
